Mistakes We Knew We Were Making
by WitchGirl
Summary: Greg and Wendy decide that they're tired of waiting for the one they love. Commiserating over wine one night, they drunkenly realize that they don't have to. But in the harsh light of day, things aren't so simple. Simmers/Wedges/The Love.
1. The First Mistake

Mistakes We Knew We Were Making

**Summary**: Greg and Wendy decide that they're tired of waiting for the one they love. Commiserating over wine one night, they drunkenly realize that they don't have to. But in the harsh light of day, things aren't so simple. Simmers/Wedges/The Love.

**Timeline**: Post-Field Mice.

**_Author's Note:_** I posted this first on WMTDB (which is back up yay! so all you Nick/Greg fans should check that out). Now I'm uploading here. This is the first time I've featured three pairings in one story, as well as a love _quadrangle_ (you read that right). So I hope you enjoy the mixed up mayhem and laugh and cry along with the characters as they try and sort out they're crazy relationships. Also, this fic is unbeta'd so... all mistakes are my fault and I apologize for it. Lastly, this song's theme song share's its title - "_Mistakes We Knew We Were Making_" by Straylight Run, but no lyrics will show up. YouTube it if you like. Or don't - doesn't matter.

Chapter One: The First Mistake

Greg had watched him enter the locker room, but that didn't stop him from pretending to be surprised when he entered two and a half minutes later and saw Nick at his locker. Greg knew the exact amount of time between their entrances because he had timed it, so their encounter wouldn't seem contrived. As he leaned in the doorway in a fashion that he believed was apathetically cool, he tossed Nick a mildly surprised "Oh, hey," with a nod of his chin. He tried to ignore the fact that it sounded like the beginning of, "_Fancy seeing you here._"

Nick pulled back from behind the open door of his locker to smile at his colleague. "Hey, Greg. You heading home?"

"Me?" Greg scoffed. "Not the way Catherine's been riding me." Nick raised an eyebrow and Greg cringed. "Poor choice of words."

"She's been putting you on all the hard cases lately," Nick said, closing the door of his locker and shrugging on a windbreaker. "I heard you even talked to the DA and the Sheriff about a case today. I think she's grooming you."

"Oh yeah?" Greg asked, as if he hadn't considered it. He frowned. "Grooming me for what?"

Nick shrugged. "Can never be too prepared for anything, I guess. You think she expected to ever take Grissom's job?"

Greg shrugged. "Did you ever expect to take hers?"

Nick shook his head and looked down, seeming almost bashful. But when he looked up again, he was smiling. "Did you want something, Greg?"

"Want something?" Greg echoed, hoping to sound innocent.

"You're pulling some overtime here at the lab, right?" Nick asked.

"Right."

"So what are you doing in the locker room?"

Greg cursed internally, wondering why he had thought of everything except for an answer to that question. "I… need to get something out of my locker."

Nick stepped back and opened his arms to him. "So come get it."

Greg hesitated. What kind of invitation was that? Nick was calling his bluff, that much was obvious. But why? "Uh, I'll get it later."

Nick snorted, seeming baffled and almost offended as he shook his head. "Whatever."

"Whatever?" Greg repeated, his tone asking for an explanation.

Nick shouldered a messenger bag. "It's just you've been stalking me in the hall since I left the fingerprint lab. You even hovered outside for three minutes before walking in here and acting all casual. If you have something to say, you might as well say it."

But Greg had nothing to say. His only reason for following Nick was to talk to him, about everything, about anything, about the menial and mundane. They had done that, and he'd gotten what he wanted – a few minutes alone in a room with Nick Stokes. It wasn't a lot for him to ask for, but the way things had been going lately, it had become a rare thing to come by. Besides, anything more than that was just asking too much.

Greg shook his head before he said, "Two and a half."

"Come again?" Nick said, his brow furrowed.

"It was two and a half minutes. I know because I timed it."

Nick started laughing, and even though Greg had the peculiar feeling that the Texan was laughing _at_ him, he was glad to hear it. "You're kind of odd, do you know that?"

"Yes," Greg said, honestly. "All too well."

Nick stopped laughing and he pursed his lips. "Greg—"

"I should go," Greg said, forcing a modest shrug. He turned around.

"Greg, I'm sorry," Nick said. "If it's any consolation, I like odd."

Greg froze in the doorway, his back to Nick. He closed his eyes, wondering exactly how much Nick Stokes liked 'odd.' He cast Nick a probing look over the shoulder. His friend stood there, one thumb under the strap of the bag on his shoulder. The other hand was at his side, but the palm was turned towards Greg, silently asking him to stay. His supplicating eyes, warm sienna and sincere, slipped under Greg's skin, and suddenly, he couldn't leave Nick like that.

He sighed and turned around, knowing that this was probably a mistake. He'd spent the better part of ten years replaying this conversation in his mind, and it never ended well. In every possible scenario, the conversation always changed their relationship, for better or worse, and Greg wasn't sure he wanted to risk that. But he was also tired of waiting.

He walked into the locker room and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "We've known each other, what, ten years?"

"Twelve," Nick corrected.

Greg couldn't believe he'd forgotten that. "BS."

Nick looked taken aback. "Did you just call bullshit?"

"Before Sara," Greg explained with a smirk. "I sometimes forget those years even happened."

Nick closed his eyes, smiled, and nodded, as if remembering. "1998. You were a smartass twenty-three year old prodigy who thought you walked on water."

"And you were a CSI level one that didn't know his guanine from his thymine," Greg returned.

"So we've both come a long way since then," Nick agreed with a chuckle. "What are you getting at?"

"That we actually _haven't_ come a long way since then," Greg said, choosing his words carefully. "You and me, I mean."

Nick, as if realizing this might be a long conversation, took off his messenger bag and sat on the bench. "OK…"

Greg let out a frustrated sigh and raked his hands through his hair. "Despite all the times I've imagined having this conversation, I've never found the right words."

A smile tugged at the corners of Nick's lips. "Twelve years Greg and you think I don't know you?"

"That's not it—"

"I know it's not," Nick interrupted. "My point is, I think I do know what you're trying to tell me."

This was unexpected. Greg held his breath.

"Although…" Nick continued. "It's a peculiar conclusion to come to, given your history."

It was Greg's turn to sit on the bench. He turned to Nick, fascinated. "How do you mean?"

"I've seen you analyze skin cells of the women you dated," Nick explained. "I listened to you pine over Sara for three years, albeit against my will as you held me prisoner by withholding my DNA results. I even listened to your kinky stories about that Hawaiian girl and whipped cream after she left you a banana cream pie at the front desk."

"So?" Greg asked.

"So if I didn't know any better, I'd say this conversation was about the fact that you have feelings for me," Nick explained.

And there they were: the words that Greg had kept inside of him for years spoken on someone else's lips. Maybe Nick knew him better than he thought. His eyebrows shot up and he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Um…" He looked away from Nick, down at the floor.

"Well, don't rush to deny it," Nick said, sounding actually a little shocked that he had guessed correctly.

"How can I deny it?" Greg said, still refusing to look at him.

"How _can't_ you?" Nick asked. "This can't be a come on, Greg, because unless you've been faking all these years, you're very into women."

"And the world is so black and white?" Greg snapped. "Ever occur to you that I only shared half my thoughts on sex and relationships because I thought the other half would alienate you?"

Nick shrugged and puckered his mouth. "Honestly, it never occurred to me that you only shared half of _anything_ that went on in that head of yours. You were kind of the king of overshare. At least, you used to be. Now you don't talk at all, what's up with that?"

Greg had known this was a mistake. He got to his feet. "This," he said, gesturing at Nick. "_This_ is what's up with that."

"Now, Greg—"

"And don't chastise me!" Greg cried. "Like I'm just some kid that's overreacting."

Nick couldn't help it. He laughed. "You _are_ overreacting."

Greg held up his hands. "This was a bad idea."

"No, it wasn't," Nick insisted, also standing up. "I'm glad we talked about this."

"I'm not," Greg said. "Can I go now?"

"You don't want to know what I think?" Nick asked.

"I already know what you think," said Greg. "Twelve years, remember?"

Nick put all his weight on his back leg and crossed his arms. "OK, then. What do I think, Greg?"

"You think I'm a kid with a crush," Greg explained, "and you're going to let me down easy, then avoid me for a few days, because you actually hate talking about stuff like this. And when you stop avoiding me, we'll be friends again, but you'll be a little stingier with the hugs and the pats on the back and the… everything. You'll hold back. Because we were once so close, and that… _intimacy_ led me to fall in love with you and—" That's when he realized he'd said it, but he plowed on pretending he hadn't, hoping Nick wouldn't notice. "—you think that keeping a friendship that close would just reignite this old crush and make things awkward again, so you'll keep me at arm's length." He took a breath. "How am I doing? In the ballpark?"

Nick's mouth was half-open as he gave Greg a blank stare. Then, he slowly shook his head. "Not even in the stadium," he breathed. His brow furrowed again. "Did you just say you loved me?"

Greg felt his face flush with warmth. His eyes moved to the corners, as if trying to remember. "Yes…" he muttered, trying to make it unimportant. He blinked and shook his head, as if to clear it. "No. What?"

"Greg…" Nick said, licking his lips. "I need some time to think about this."

"Of course you do," Greg muttered. "Take all the time you need. It was nice knowing you, I guess…" Greg marched out of the locker room, dejection echoing in every single step.

* * *

><p>Wendy held her breath, her eyes following Hodges as he walked down the hall and right past her lab without even throwing a glance her way. When he was out of sight, she sighed and looked down at the buccal swabs she was supposed to be testing. This new awkwardness that had cropped up between them was much different from the old, familiar awkwardness that had nested around them for these past four years. It was even different from the awkwardness of five years ago, when they had first met and Wendy had incorrectly assumed that Hodges was on the autism spectrum. Truth be told, their relationship had never been normal, but it had always been comfortable, and she missed the warmth of it. Now, Hodges kept trying to <em>talk<em> to her about it, and in the process, ruined everything. She missed their secret smiles, their playful repartee, even the bombastic but clumsy way he was always trying to impress her. All of that was traded for a few skittish glances and cutting Hodges off every time he opened his mouth when they were alone.

He didn't seem to understand that she _couldn't_ talk about it, that the whole _point_ of it was to seize a taste of something she could never have, and then just walk away. Only he wouldn't let her walk away. He wanted more from her, and she was incapable of giving it to him. She'd meant the words she'd said, right before she had kissed him – it'll never happen. She had meant it about both Henry _and_ Hodges, but she supposed the subsequent kiss turned it into a mixed message. The worst part was, she couldn't even tell him _why_ it could never happen, at least not yet, and that was another thing Wendy did not want to be asked about.

"You get a match?"

Wendy jumped at the question. She hadn't realized she'd been staring at the last spot where she'd seen Hodges before he'd disappeared. She turned and saw Greg, looking at her with raised eyebrows.

"Match?" she asked.

"Those swabs," Greg explained. "Any of them a match to the Jenson murders?"

Wendy looked down again at her buccal swabs. "Maybe?"

Greg followed her gaze. "You didn't run them yet, did you?"

"I've been distracted," she confessed.

To her surprise, Greg actually smiled. "I know the feeling."

She was grateful for his empathy, because she'd expected him to get angry. "I'll run them right now, I swear. Your case just became my top priority. Sara and Nick's evidence can wait."

Greg laughed. "I just ousted Sara and Nick on your priority list?" He gave her an approving, if a little smug look. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"Cheering me up a little," Greg said.

"You seem like you're in a better mood than I am," Wendy replied.

Greg shrugged. "Years of practice, I guess." He paused. "Wendy, how old am I?"

She frowned at him, seeming suddenly wary. "Is this a trick question?"

"No. Do you know how old I am?"

"You're thirty…" she thought, "six?"  
>"Five."<p>

"Over-shot it. Sorry."

Greg shook his head. "Better than guessing twenty-five."

"Why do you ask?"

Greg took a deep breath and exhaled. "Because I think some people here forget that."

"Don't be stupid," Wendy said. "I mean, yeah, five years ago you were the rookie, but that's Ray's job now, right, so you've become a veteran player." An idea struck her. "You're like the MVP!"

Greg was flattered. "Thanks," he said. He spun around and was about to leave, when he realized how common this situation was. He paused on his way out, his back to Wendy. Five years ago, he used to be one of the lab technicians. He used to be in on all of the jokes and pranks, indeed, he'd often instigated them. Ever since he'd become a CSI, he'd turned into one of the "field mice" that only ever stopped in to talk to the lab technicians when he needed something. Nick, Sara, Warrick, Grissom and Catherine had all done it to him when he was in the lab. It had been one of the reasons he'd wanted so badly to get out into the field – so Nick (and, really, all of them) would see him as someone other than the man who held their DNA results hostage until they stayed for a conversation. He'd wanted badly to be an equal, and while most of them treated him as such now, Nick still saw him as a child.

But Wendy was different. The woman who had taken his old job never _had_ to resort to stunts to keep the CSIs in her lab talking to her. She just managed to have a warm attitude about her that made people want to be around her. And she never acted offended whenever Greg dropped by, said two words, and then ducked out again.

Greg looked over his shoulder at Wendy, who had already started running the buccal swabs, and that's when he saw it. He wondered why he hadn't seen it when he'd walked into the room. Her preoccupation seemed as obvious as the unshed tears in the corner of her eyes. And not thirty seconds ago, she had indulged Greg's complaints and cheered _him_ up.

"I take you for granted," he said.

She looked up at him and blinked. "What?"

"I know I do," Greg explained, "because they used to take _me_ for granted, and now I'm acting just like them, aren't I?"

She continued to watch him a moment before she said, "I'm moving to Portland."

For some reason, Greg's heart plummeted into the pit of his stomach. "What? When?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I mean, maybe I won't even go. I've been talking to my sister up there, she has room for me to stay when I go look for an apartment. And the lab up there has a reputation for allowing their employees to work wherever they want. Lab or field, it doesn't matter, they just want good people. I'm a good person, right?"

"The best…" Greg admitted. He stepped forward. "Is that what you're worried about?"

She gave him a half shrug in response.

Greg looked at his watch. "We should talk about this. When are you off?"

"An hour ago," she said, and gestured at her desk. "But I'm backlogged."

Greg nodded. "I'm in overtime mode, too. But, hey, you know, I'm pretty much done now. How about I give you a hand in here?"

She seemed taken aback. "Are you sure?"

"Positive!" Greg declared. "I used to _be_ you, remember? You think I've forgotten how to get this stuff done in the fastest way possible?"

She gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks."


	2. Whiskey and Whine

_**Author's**_** Note: **On account of I posted this last Wednesday, I was going to update weekly (on Wednesdays). But I was feeling generous, and in honor of the extra hour the West Coast gained today, I decided to post early. Enjoy chapter two. And for those unfamiliar with my work and posting habits, I tend to post regularly either daily, every other day, or weekly. This will probably be bi-weekly postings.**  
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Chapter Two: Whiskey and Whine

By the time they had finished work, every decent bar was closed. Insisting they needed to go to a place where alcohol was available and refusing to go to a casino, Greg suggested that they retire to his apartment.

Greg poured Wendy a glass of chardonnay and she thanked him. "So, why Portland?"

"Vegas won't put me in the field," Wendy replied. "You know that."

Greg fell onto his couch, holding his glass out to the side. "What's the matter with Ecklie, huh? It's not like I turned out badly, did I?"

"No, you're great!" Wendy agreed, sitting next to Greg on his couch. "That's exactly why I don't get it. He let you do it, and you turned into this brilliant CSI, but then he goes around and says, 'Sorry, Wendy, we aren't doing that anymore.'"

"And it's not like we don't need an extra hand," Greg added. "Riley left a spot wide open. You could _totally_ take that."

"I know, right?" Wendy exclaimed. "Jesus, the idiots that run this lab."

"Clowns running the circus," Greg agreed with a nod. "But you still didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"Why Portland?"

She shrugged. "I like it up there, it's a great city. I have family there, their lab has a good reputation…"

"Yeah, but so does the Reno lab," Greg put in. "And that's ten times closer. You wouldn't be so far away from… us."

Wendy looked down at her knees. "Reno lab has a horrible reputation and you know it."

"But it's still in Nevada," Greg said.

"You think I want to leave?" she asked. "I don't. Ideally, I could stay right here and become a CSI and I wouldn't have to leave… _everyone_ behind."

"Who's everyone?" Greg asked.

"You, Henry, Mandy… Everyone."

"Hodges?"

She looked sharply away. "And Hodges…"

"What's going on with you two, anyway?" Greg asked. "Catherine said you had a pretty intense conversation right in front of her about that arson case."

"God, is nothing safe from the rumor mill?" Wendy asked with a laugh.

"If you want something juicy, I think I might have walked in on Sara having phone sex with Grissom in one of the layout rooms," Greg said with a smirk.

Wendy let out a barking laugh and Greg joined in. As their laughter died down, she nodded. "Hodges and I will never happen."

"Why not?"

"Because he's too stubborn," Wendy explained. "And I can't wait forever. And I'm leaving."

"You don't have to leave," Greg said.

"Please, don't start," Wendy begged. "I wasn't even going to tell you, but then you turned around and said what you did, and it just… guilted me into it."

"Were you going to tell anyone you were leaving, or just vanish?" Greg asked.

"I've been talking to Henry about it," Wendy said. "A little. It's in its very preliminary stages, so… But Hodges can never know."

"Why not?"

"Because just like you, he'll give me his big puppy-dog eyes and beg me to stay," Wendy explained. "And unlike you, he will never drop it. I can't stay, Greg. I can't sacrifice my career for a relationship that's going nowhere."

"Maybe you have the right idea," Greg said. "Maybe I should get out of Vegas, too."

"And why would you do a stupid thing like that?" Wendy cried, appalled at the very suggestion of it. "You are _golden_ here. You have everything. You're a CSI, like you wanted, and you help out in the lab but only when you feel like it. The team loves you, Henry _worships_ you, even Hodges has begrudgingly begun to admit that you're an OK guy. I even heard that Catherine may or may not have been talking to Nick about promoting a certain someone." At the mention of Nick's name, Greg cringed. Wendy frowned. "OK, Greg, what's the matter?"

"You're right, of course," Greg conceded, "in that I have it pretty good here. And I like working with Catherine and Sara and Ray, but…"

Wendy was just as astute as Greg was when she'd neglected to list the name of her chief problem. "Is this about Nick?"

"No," Greg said, pouring himself more wine. "Yes. Absolutely. It's always about Nick."

"How can you be mad at Nick?" Wendy asked, sounding genuinely baffled. "He's a sweetheart. I bet if you talked to him—"

"No, Wendy, this all started _because_ I talked to him," Greg said. "I think I screwed everything up." He held up the bottle and she held her glass out for a refill.

"I don't follow," she said as he poured the wine. She took a sip.

"I told him I was in love with him."

Wendy choked but disguised it with a cough. Her eyes were twice their normal size, but then, she shrugged and smiled. "Well then…" She downed her wine in one gulp. "I think we're ready for some whiskey."

* * *

><p>So the wine turned into whiskey, and commiserating turned into teasing, and before either of them knew it, they were laughing.<p>

"I just… I'm sorry…" Wendy was saying, shaking her head. "It just makes… so much sense."

"Indubitab-bubbly," Greg said, nodding emphatically. This just made Wendy laugh harder.

"No, _really_," Wendy insisted, as if Greg had said he hadn't believed her. "You're far too hot to be straight, and far too much of a flirt to be gay. So you're both. So that… that makes _sense_."  
>"That's what I've been saying, I mean, I mean, with Nick, right, he looks at me like this is something… <em>weird<em>, or something he's never thought of before. But Wendy, see, Wendy, I know for a _fact_, see, Wendy, that he has picked up on my – watchyoucallit – flirting – and he, I swear, see, Wendy, he's played _along_. Flirted back. It's all in the innuendo, Enzo."

"Who is _Enzo_?" Wendy exclaimed, tossing her head back.

"Your new nickname," Greg said.

She hit him. "You call me that, and I, I think I'll do… something…" She tried to stop grinning but couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing.

"Ya, so, like, this concept of a healthy, normal, bisexual man seems to baffle him, but Wendy…" And now, Greg got really serious. "I've seen, Wendy, how he looks at me when I walk away. I bet you solid money that man is not straight." He threw his hands up in the air and leaned backwards. "And there, I said it."

Wendy snorted. "And how could he say no to _you_? Oh my God, Greg, you and Nick, you and Nick would be the _perfect_ couple. Just the thought of it makes me feel all warm and squishy."

"Oh, _I_ see," Greg said with a smirk. "That sort of thing turns you on, does it? You're one of _those_ women."

Wendy's jaw dropped. "I meant _happy_ that two great people like you guys got together. Warm and squishy like it's such an adorable romantic comedy movie thing, _that's all_."

"I'm sure that's _exactly_ what you meant," Greg said.

She gestured at him with her whiskey glass, spilling some of it on the couch. "The fact that it's an attractive picture has _nothing_ to do with me wanting you two to hook up. You deserve each other."

"Well you _don't_ deserve, Hodges," Greg said. "He's beneath you, totally. Why, I'll bet you'll find some hot CSI out there in Portland. Maybe even pull a Griss and Sara and run off together to Jamaica or wherever. But you deserve better than Hodges. Like, a lot better. What kind of _name_ is that anyway, it sounds like hodgepodge. Podgy Hodges." He said the name a few more times, wrinkling his nose.

"Oh yeah, better than Hodges, huh?" Wendy said. "Tell me, who in this lab, in this state, in this universe, is better than him?"

"Well, me, obviously," Greg said with a snort.

"But you're unavailable," Wendy said. "You left your heart in Nick Stokes'… locker, or something."

"Hey…" Greg said, an idea striking him. "Hey, wait. You and me, we're mad because there are people out there who just don't deserve us, but we're in love with them anyway."

"No, you deserve Nick," Wendy insisted. "He's a sweetie buddy teddy bear. C'mon, Angelina _Jolie_ deserves Nick Stokes, you'd be _lucky_ to—"

"The _point_ is!" Greg interrupted, loudly. "The point is that there are, Wendy, there are people out there that we can't help being in love with, even if they can't love us back, whether we deserve each other or not."

"Right," Wendy agreed.

"So here's what I – and listen closely, Wendy – here's what I think."

Wendy waited. Greg paused, his index finger up in the air, his mouth half open. For a moment, Wendy thought he'd frozen that way. "What do you think?"

"I'm getting to it!" Greg snapped. "So what I think, Wendy, what I think is that, is that… Wendy. OK, so, we're good people, right?"

"The best," Wendy reminded him, pointedly.

"Right, so, we're the best. We're young—"

"Not too young," Wendy said.

"Not old," Greg elaborated. "We're not old and attractive and good people and you look really pretty tonight so I was having a thought, and—"

"You think I'm pretty?" Wendy asked, her eyes alight.

"Yes," Greg said, "and I was thinking that, Wendy, if it was OK with you, then maybe, um, maybe we should—"

But where Greg was a man of words, Wendy had always been a woman of action, and before Greg could even finish his thought, she silenced him with a kiss, her hands on his cheeks. The silence that fell across the room in the absence of Greg's monologue intoxicated her more than the alcohol. She inhaled through her nose as Greg's fingers twisted themselves in her hair, his other hand on her back, pulling her deeper into the kiss and closer to him.

When they broke, Greg smacked his lips, his eyes wide. "I was gonna say we should go out to a club and pick up strangers, but I think your idea is better."

She pushed his shoulder back then straddled him, one knee on either hip. She slid her hands back into his hair as he looked up at her adoringly, his jaw slightly slack.

"You really are beautiful," he told her.

"Stop talking."

"OK—"

But the last sound was muffled as once again, her lips stole his words and his arms encircled her, crawling up her back. She pressed herself into him, her hands traveling down his neck and his back, her fingertips reading the muscles and scars beneath his shirt like Braille until she reached the hem of his shirt and seized it, pulling it up over his head. He hooked his arms beneath her knees and swiftly twisted her so that she was on her back on the couch and he was on top of her. Their lips explored each other's skin and their hands tugged at each other's clothes, and soon enough, they crossed the point of no return, and there was no coming back from that.


	3. The Hangover

_**Author's**_** Note:** I said I'd update biweekly, but I think it's just weekly. Next chapter will come next Monday at the latest. I might be persuaded to post earlier, though. It depends on progress and mood and reviews. :o)

Chapter Three: The Hangover

Greg raised his heavy lids a few times before letting them fall closed again. He was vaguely aware that his cheek was lying against something hard and flat, and it was pushing the flesh of it between his teeth. But he was too exhausted to care, and had too many other sources of discomfort to even really notice. There was a dull throb somewhere in the back of his head that threatened to erupt into an aching pound if he ever decided to move. And something was swirling unpleasantly inside of his stomach like a whirlpool. Not to mention the fact that it seemed every muscle in his body was sore, like he'd just run a marathon and had forgotten to stretch. He decided he should just sleep it off, and was about to fall back into unconsciousness when something under his arm moved and groaned.

Greg's eyes snapped open to see Wendy sitting up and pushing her shoulders back. His eyes widened when he noticed that she was completely nude. A quick look down told him that he was in the same condition. He seemed to realize this before she did. She blinked at him, then sleepily smiled. When he didn't smile back, her expression vanished. She threw her arms across her chest and her eyes darted around the room.

They were lying on his hardwood living room floor between the couch and the coffee table, both of which seemed to have moved away from each other during the night. Their clothes had been hurled to the wind. Wendy was closest to the couch while Greg's back was pressed against the legs of the coffee table. On his other side, Greg saw a green plaid blanket that had been flung under the table. He stretched his arm, trying to reach it, and just snared it between his fingers before tossing it to Wendy. She wrapped it around herself and leapt to her feet, staring down at Greg.

"Oh God…" she groaned. She walked backwards away, then looked down. She picked something up at her feet and threw it at Greg, who caught the fabric. They were his boxers. He immediately sat up and put them on. He pulled a knee up and rested his elbow against it, placing his forehead in his hand.

"Ugh…" he moaned, feeling something banging against his skull like a hammer.

"I need…" Wendy began, and then shook her head. "I need to take a shower."

Without moving any other body part, Greg's free hand pointed down the hall in the direction of the bathroom. Wendy made a dash for it. Greg winced at the sound of the door slamming.

Slowly and painfully, he rose to his feet and hobbled over to his kitchen. Eggs on toast was his hangover remedy of choice, and he pulled out a carton of eggs from his fridge before turning on his stove. Half-awake, he fumbled in his fruit bowl for some bananas and found a few that were way past their expiration date. He debated a moment about whether he should throw them out, or save them to make bread later. He decided he'd figure it out when he was more awake.

He seized a frying pan and stuck it on the stove, then scrounged around for the bread. He pulled out his toaster and dropped two slices inside. He went back to the stove and cracked the egg. The sizzling of it echoed inside his ears, and seemed much louder than it should have been. Greg tried to ignore it. As the egg fried, he poured himself a glass of water and gulped it down.

There was a knock at the door. Momentarily forgetting where she'd gone, Greg thought it was Wendy, coming back to retrieve something she'd left behind. He flipped the egg onto a plate, then headed to the door. When he opened it, he didn't see Wendy at all, but Nick, holding, of all things, a modest bouquet of flowers.

He offered the flowers to Greg. "I came to apologize."

Greg cocked an eyebrow and did not accept the flowers. "Seriously?"

Nick closed his eyes and winced, as if silently chastising himself. "I'm new at this."

Greg almost smiled. He stepped back and gestured for Nick to come in. "You want some eggs and toast?"

"No, I'm good," Nick told him, looking around Greg's apartment. His eyes moved from the sofa to the coffee table, to the scattered clothes lying about the floor.

"About yesterday… When I said I needed time to think, I feel like you… might have… taken that to mean… something it didn't— Greg, do you have someone in your shower?"

All of a sudden, a light clicked on in Greg's head. Instantly, he was fully awake and icy panic trickled down his spine. "No," he said.

Nick turned around to face him, his eyes suspicious. "Then why do I hear running water?"

"It's from upstairs," Greg said. "Now, um, what were you saying?"

But Nick's mood had changed. What had started as an apology slowly morphed into an accusation. "You put words in my mouth, and then stormed off like _you _were the victim. Everything you assumed I'd do, everything you thought I was thinking, was _so_ wrong, I couldn't even believe it had come from you. I felt like, if that's _really_ what you thought I'd do when you told me that you had feelings for me, that you loved me, then maybe you didn't really know me at _all_, and Greg, _that's_ what I had to think about. _That's_ what bothered me so much, and _that's_ why I couldn't answer your question back then. Because if that's the guy you thought I was, and you loved _him_, then maybe you didn't love me at all."

Greg was quiet as he took in Nick's words. His skin was tingling, and he could feel the heat rising in his neck. He swallowed, then he realized the water had stopped. His head snapped up to look at Nick again. He forced a smile and reached out to the bouquet.

"I think I'd like those flowers now—"

The door down the hall opened and closed, and Nick turned towards it and away from Greg, taking the flowers with him. Greg stumbled as his grasp missed the bouquet. All he knew was that Nick could never see the person walking down the hall. He had no way of warning her to stay away, so the best he could do was distract the Texan.

"Nick!" he said, seizing his arm.

Nick turned to give Greg a confused look, but only for a moment as footsteps announced Wendy's arrival.

"Greg, have you seen my…" She stopped dead in her tracks, wearing nothing but a towel. Greg buried his face in his hands. Nick simply stared. For a seemingly endless moment, nobody spoke.

But it seemed Wendy felt the urge to break the awkward silence. "Hi, Nick…" she said with a smile. "Um, this isn't what it looks like."

Nick looked around the apartment. He crouched down and hooked one finger in the strap of Wendy's bra. He held it out to her. "No?"

One hand holding her towel, she snatched the bra out of his hands. "Thanks, I was, uh, looking for that." She walked very stiffly over to her shirt, which had somehow ended up by the kitchen. As she passed Nick, her shoulders hunched forward in shame. Nick watched her silently as she collected her clothes one by one. She seemed to take forever. After she'd gathered every last article of clothing in her arms, she darted for the bathroom again.

"I'll just leave you two to—"

"Yeah, thanks," Nick interrupted, a little too sharply.

The second they heard that door close again, Nick turned on Greg, who was leaning against the back of the couch with his hands buried under his arms. He looked up at Nick, guilt etched in every corner of his features. Nick said nothing, he only gave Greg a look Greg had never seen before. His eyes were round and glistening and his mouth was half-open, his brow slightly furrowed. It was the same look, Greg imagined, that Caesar, bloody and broken, gave Brutus as he inhaled his last rattling breath. Greg couldn't stand it, but he couldn't tear his eyes away, either. Somehow, that seemed like a cheap way out. No, this was his punishment. He had to see this, and he wouldn't disrespect Nick further by looking away.

He pursed his lips trying to think of something to say. Everything that went through his mind just sounded like an excuse. _We were drunk. We were lonely. We'd both had bad days. We thought the men we loved didn't love us back._

"It's…" Greg began, and stopped. The room had been filled with silence for so long the sound of his voice echoed off the walls like a tomb. He managed a helpless shrug. "It is… what it is," he said, because of all the things he could think to say, that was the most honest, if also the most obvious. It wasn't enough. Greg knew that it wasn't enough. "Nick, I—"

Nick just held up his hand, signaling Greg to stop, and shook his head. Without a word, he headed straight for the exit, throwing the flowers at the ground before leaving the apartment and slamming the door behind him.

Greg let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding and shook his head. He collected his scattered clothes from off the floor and headed to his bedroom, tossing them in the hamper. He dug through his drawers of clean clothes and put some on. A part of him wanted to take a shower, but Wendy was still in there.

He went back to the kitchen and continued making breakfast. He fried three more eggs over easy and slid them onto two plates, along with the toast. Wendy still hadn't made a sound.

Setting the plates on the table, Greg made his way to the bathroom. In the middle of the hall, he stopped. Something cold and slick slithered around his stomach and clenched. He let out a sob and his hands flew to his mouth to stifle it. Tears rolled silently down his cheeks and he sniffed before wiping them madly away with the back of his hand. He straightened, took a deep breath, and continued to the bathroom.

He knocked, then said with the steadiest voice he could manage, "Wendy? I made you breakfast." She didn't say anything. He knocked again. "Wendy?"

"You can come in," she said.

He slowly opened the door and saw her leaning against the cabinet under the sink, hugging her knees to her chest. She was wearing the clothes she'd worn over and her wet hair was neatly brushed and pulled back into a ponytail. Judging by her red face, Greg knew he wasn't alone in his misery. He kneeled down beside her and put a hand on her knee. She flinched and he withdrew.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean… It's OK." She reached out and took his hand, putting it back on her knee.

Greg smiled. "He's gone. Come out and have some breakfast."

"Greg, I'm so sorry," Wendy repeated, a hitch in her voice telling him she was on the verge of tears again. "I didn't mean to screw things up with you and Nick. If I'd have known he was there, I would have… crawled out the bathroom window onto the fire escape or something."

"Like some five-dollar hooker?" Greg said, sounding appalled. "Not a chance. You're a classy lady, Wendy, you deserve to have breakfast with me and walk out the front door."

"All of this started because of what we thought we _deserved_…" Wendy said. "We thought we deserved to be happy, so we gave into our instincts."

"We _do_ deserve to be happy," Greg insisted.

Wendy was shaking her head. "It was a stupid, stupid idea."

"Are you saying you regret what happened?"

"Don't you?"

"No," Greg said. Wendy raised her eyebrows and Greg sighed. "OK, maybe. A little. I regret _how_ this happened, I regret how it made things with Nick and me so much more complicated, and just when I thought it couldn't _get_ any more messed up. But sex, with you? Wendy… I told you last night. You're beautiful. Why would I regret that?"

At that, her face contracted and she started crying again. "Damn you, Greg Sanders, why do you have to be such a fucking sweetheart all of the time?" she blubbered.

"Not _all_ of the time," Greg said. "You should have seen how I handled Nick. It was horrible. I think he hates me a little."

"Anything I can do…" Wendy said, "_anything_ at all to make things right between you two again, I will. If you want me to move to Portland tomorrow and never see you again just so you two can patch this up and be together, I will. I swear, I'll be on the next flight out of Vegas."

Greg looked horrified as he shook his head. "No! No, never. I don't know what I'd do if you left."

She shrugged. "I'll tell him I seduced you. You were drunk, I took advantage."

Greg smiled, biting back his own tears as he rubbed her arm and laughed. "What am I, some blonde coed at a fraternity? You don't have to do that. In fact, please don't."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Have breakfast with me. And maybe stay away from Nick for a while. I'll talk to him. OK?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "OK."

* * *

><p>Greg knocked before walking into the layout room, and Nick looked up. At first, his expression was curious, almost inviting, but it turned sour when he realized who it was. He turned swiftly back to his work.<p>

"I'm busy."

"Yeah, I know, real busy," Greg said, entering the room anyway. "You were long gone on assignment by the time I got in today. Catherine said you were in a big hurry, but of course, she had no clue why."

Nick shoved a photo across the table at Greg. "What do you make of these spatter patterns?"

Greg took one look and made a face. "Arterial spray with a person-shaped void." He pushed the photo back across to Nick. "Anyone can see that. Why do you ask?"

"Because unless it's about a case, I can't talk to you," Nick said, matter-of-factly as he rearranged the photos in front of him. He was purposely not looking at Greg, who went ahead and closed the door to the layout room.

"So you ask me a dumb question just to make a point," he said. "I get it." He went and leaned on the layout table, across from where Nick was still ignoring him. "Nick, look, I know you're mad at me—"

Nick slammed his hands on the table and turned his head to the ceiling, his eyes closed. "No, Greg. I'm not doing this because I'm mad. I mean, I_ am_ mad, but that's… that's not why I can't talk to you."

Greg tried on his best puppy dog face. "Then… why not?"

"Because it _hurts_," Nick finally burst out, and then his hands flew to cover his mouth and nose. He closed his eyes. "It just… hurts, Greg."

Greg dropped the cute expression. He realized that he had no right to use it. He looked down at the table as the weight of Nick's words sank in. Nick was hurting because of him. And living with the knowledge of what he'd done, _that_ was Greg's penance.

He began to wring out his hands. "I'm sorry." And he meant it, probably more than he'd meant anything ever in his life, and yet he knew that it fell far too short. He had to give Nick something, lay something at the altar as he prayed for forgiveness, but this meager two-word offering, though all he had, was not nearly enough and he knew it. And the gods would not be kind to him.

Nick's eyes were closed as he shook his head. The defeat in Nick's voice shattered something in Greg that, in light of recent events, he'd forgotten he still had – his heart. "Please… just go."

His mouth dry, Greg simply nodded. In complete disgrace, he turned around and left. He hesitated, at the door, thinking he should say something, but he'd already given everything he had and he'd been rejected. So, quietly, he opened the door, and left.

* * *

><p>Hodges jogged to catch up with Wendy as she headed to Catherine's office with her results. She groaned, inwardly, and tried to make herself as small as possible. It was no good – Hodges still saw her, and he matched her pace, even as she sped up.<p>

"You're wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday."

"It was a late night."

"Archie said that you and Greg Sanders came to work in the same car."

"We were working a case."

"That's not what Archie said."

"Archie's a gossip and a flirt," Wendy said. "I wouldn't trust a thing he says. Don't, in fact."

"Then why are your shoulders up to your ears?" Hodges asked.

Wendy stopped walking and forced her spine to straighten. She turned to face him. "They're not."

"Not now." His wide, blue eyes were so full of innocent confusion it almost made her nauseous. "Wendy?" It wasn't accusatory or angry; it was just one word, her name, brimming with the simple question he never wanted to ask.

She blinked, mostly to keep the tears in check. "It was just a… way of curing our mutual isolation."

Hodges blinked back. "That's an oxymoron, Wendy."

"_You're_ an oxymoron," she returned, knowing she sounded rather juvenile. And while it had just been a knee-jerk reaction, she thought about her accusation. "You _are_! What's the matter with you, Hodges? One minute, you're saying the sweetest thing about me, and the next you go and insult me. One day, you're fantasizing about me, the next you're turning down my invitation for a date. And now, you're _judging_ me?"

Though he didn't move, it looked as if Hodges had shrunk and Wendy felt something pang deep within her gut like a stone in an empty bucket.

And then, Hodges rolled his shoulders back, regaining some ground. "I'm not judging you," he said, holding his head up in a completely judgmental way.

She sighed, looked down at the floor, then up again at Hodges and offered him a modest shrug. "I just… don't understand why I have to feel guilty about cheating on someone I've never gone on a date with."

He seemed to back down. "You shouldn't, I guess."

"Shouldn't I?" Wendy returned.

"Wait, I'm confused…" Hodges began.

"You're always confused," Wendy snapped. "And that's the problem."

And she stormed off, somehow finding away to be angry at him, even when she _knew_ she was the one in the wrong. She found safety behind the next corner, quickly ducking around it and leaning her back flat against the wall. As she sank against the wall, throwing her head back against it and contorting her face, she marveled at the many ways she found to torture him.


	4. The Wedding Waltz

Chapter Four: The Wedding Waltz

Greg tried to talk to Nick for the rest of his shift, but the Texan always found reasons to avoid him. Eventually, Greg gave up and acknowledged that Nick needed space. He just hoped that was _all_ Nick needed. He wrapped his arms around himself and beneath his blazer as he walked down the hall with his eyes cast low. Someone else stopped right in front of him. He looked up to see Wendy, her mouth partially open as she blinked at Greg.

Greg shifted, then frowned, averting his gaze. "Um… how are you doing?"

"I'm OK," she replied, simply.

"Right," Greg said, nodding. "I mean, good."

"Maybe we shouldn't have come in together," Wendy said slowly. "I mean, it kind of sends the wrong message."

"It seemed practical at the time," Greg murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

"We were hung over at the time," Wendy pointed out. "And I didn't feel much like driving."

"So, next time, separate cars," Greg noted. "Got it."

"You think there's going to be a _next _time?" Wendy hissed, looking around as if someone might have heard him.

Greg sighed. "No," he said. "Sorry. I'm just tired. Long day."

She nodded, understanding. "Did you talk to Nick?"

Greg winced at his name. "In a manner of speaking…"

"What'd he say?"

"That he can't talk to me," Greg told her with a regretful sigh.

Wendy's face fell. "Oh, Greg, I'm so sorry!" She placed a hand on his shoulder.

Greg smiled, then saw Hodges looking at them from the trace lab. Their eyes met, and Hodges looked sharply away and busied himself in the lab. Greg took Wendy's hand and lifted it from his shoulder. She withdrew. "Yeah, maybe physical contact is not such a good idea right now."

She nodded. "Right. Of course." She tucked her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. "Sorry."

Greg rubbed his eyes with his hands. "Wendy, all we ever are is sorry. I'm already tired of it."

"Well, what did you expect?" Wendy asked.

"I thought he'd… rejected me," Greg said, with a shrug. "Turns out, I just talked myself into _thinking_ he'd rejected me. He hadn't, at all. If I'd just shut my mouth yesterday and let him talk, maybe…"

"There it is," Wendy said.

He looked at her. "There what is?"

She nodded, knowingly. "The regret. You said it wasn't there, but there it is."

"I told you," Greg insisted. "Any other time or situation, just… not after I confessed my love to someone else. That's all. It's _my _fault, Wendy. I'm sorry I got you involved in this. When Nick lets me talk to him, I'll assure him that you were just…"

"An innocent victim?" Wendy asked. "I was a willing participant in this travesty, and I'll take full responsibility for my actions. Don't you dare tell Nick it wasn't my fault. I kissed _you_, remember?" She actually pushed his shoulder. "Innocent blonde coed?"

Greg looked down and laughed, then looked up at her. "Fair enough."

Wendy held up some results. "Well, um, I should be getting these to Ray…"

"Yeah, I have to… do something too," Greg said, realizing it sounded stupid after he said it. But it made Wendy smile.

"Things will work out," she assured him. "You'll see."

Greg ducked his head as he passed her and checked his watch. His shift was about over, and he'd done everything he could for his cases. He passed Catherine's office and hesitated as he saw Nick talking to her. He looked angry. He shook his hand at her, then walked away from her desk. Catherine rose to her feet and gestured at a chair by her desk. Nick didn't turn around. He said something else, then turned his head over his shoulder and caught Greg watching. Greg took off briskly, imagining all of the things Nick was telling Catherine.

He swung around the corner of the locker room, deciding the head home early. He'd make up some excuse to Catherine about feeling unwell, which wouldn't be too hard, considering he was still feeling some of the effects of his hangover. He had a feeling the headache would never go away. It seemed like a constant reminder of what he'd done. As far as he was concerned, he deserved to live with it forever.

* * *

><p>Nick walked into Catherine's office and slammed the door behind him. She looked up with wide, irritated eyes, startled by the noise it had made.<p>

"I could have you fired for breaking that door," Catherine said.

"No, you couldn't," Nick returned, clearly not in the mood. He strode over to her desk and laid his fist on the table. Catherine cocked an eyebrow. "I want a transfer."

"Oh, if it's a transfer you wanted, all you had to do was _almost_ break the door," Catherine replied.

"I'm serious," Nick said.

"No, you're not," Catherine replied. "No one who has worked on this shift, with this team, for as long as you have just walks in here with no explanation or justification, and demands a transfer. It's absurd, it's obnoxious, and I have a lot of work to do. So, there's the door," she raised a finger at it. "You should know. It's that thing you beat up to get in here."

"I have justification," Nick insisted.

"Oh?" Catherine intoned, leaning back in her chair. "Well, then, please. Do tell."

Nick opened his mouth, all the ready to rant on about whatever justification he claimed to have, then closed it just as quickly. "OK, I don't want to talk about it, but I do have it. Please, can I get a transfer?"

Now, Catherine was beginning to cross the line between irked and concerned. She leaned forward in her chair again, laying her forearms on her desk and clasping her hands together. "Nick, did something happen?"

"Yes," Nick said. "And I'd rather not talk about it. I was thinking swing would be good. I like Ronnie and their new supervisor, and I don't think I'd be able to handle the snobs on dayshift."

"You can't request a transfer and give no reason," Catherine said. "I mean, if you don't want to tell _me_, that's fine, but you have to list _something_ in the official documents, otherwise they'll think you're just being flakey."

"Fine," Nick said. "Irreconcilable differences."

"With whom?"

"Members of this team."

"Differences over what, exactly?"

"The meaning of love and friendship," Nick told her, icily.

One eye squinted at him as she tried to work out the pieces of this puzzle and somehow squish them together. Nick got on well with everyone on the team. In fact, she struggled to think of a person who was more amiable and easier to work with than Nick Stokes. Even Ray, introverted though he was, had a very good relationship with Nick. She cared for everyone on her team, but she wasn't equally close to every single one of them like Nick was. She doubted anyone had the knowledge and trust in all of his team members like Nick did. For him to cite irreconcilable differences was like Superman saying he couldn't fly anymore.

"Members plural?" Catherine probed.

Nick shrugged. "Member, I guess."

Catherine turned back to her paperwork and filled out the date before saying, "Request denied."

"What?"

"You heard me," Catherine said, looking up sharply, daring him with her eyes to press the matter.

He did. "You can't just flat out refuse without even filing the paperwork!"

"Yes, I can," Catherine said. "And if I can avoid needless paperwork, I will. Look, whatever is going on between you and whoever else on this team – and God help them, by the way, if you're mad at them – you _will_ work it out eventually because we always do, Nick."

Nick took three steps and wagged a finger at her. "You have _no idea _the kind of—"

Catherine offered her hands to him, palm up. "So _tell _me then! I won't transfer you based on some vague dust up you had with someone you won't even name. If it's bad enough, file a complaint against them."

"He didn't do anything wrong professionally," Nick argued.

"So at least I know it's not Sara," Catherine said. "Good, because frankly I was a little worried."

"Why would it be Sara?" Nick asked, so shocked by the notion that he actually forgot his anger for a moment.

Catherine shrugged. "I don't know. I was just thinking, out of everyone, she challenges you the most. She challenges everyone, it's what she does. Kinda what makes her a good CSI, thinking of things from different perspectives. It's also what makes her a little annoying."

"No, it's not Sara," Nick admitted. "But it doesn't matter who it is. Can I just have the paperwork? I'll fill it out myself." He reached out at her across the desk.

But she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I can't do that Nick."

He growled in frustration and spun around, pacing away from the desk. "Why not?" he exclaimed.

Catherine leapt to her feet. "Because I _need_ you, Nicky! I need you on this team, and I need you as my second in command. Now come back, have a seat. Tell me, what's going on with you, and we can work this out together."

But Nick shook his head, refusing to turn to face her again. "It's complicated. I don't even—" He stopped in mid-sentence as he saw Greg's profile in the hallway outside, his head turned as he watched their conversation. Greg immediately started walking briskly down the hall again.

Catherine saw Nick's hesitation and also followed Greg's retreat. "What happened with you and Greg?" she asked quietly.

Nick closed his eyes and sighed. "Never mind. I withdraw the request."

And with that, he was gone, leaving a baffled Catherine in his wake.

* * *

><p>The week went on. Cases continued. Greg wasn't sure why, but he wasn't being partnered with Nick on any new incoming cases, which was unusual. Although, it did mean he got to do a lot more solos, and spend more time with Sara and Ray, which he appreciated. But he missed his old friend, and had a strange feeling that Nick had complained to Catherine about him. When he caught her eye in the hallway, she had that scathing, accusatory look, like she knew every horrible thing that he had done and she blamed him for it. Of course, Greg told himself that it might just have been his imagination. Catherine certainly wasn't treating him any differently than she had before. Or at least, Greg hadn't thought she was until she stopped him in the hall.<p>

"Hey…" she said, her voice sounding a little too sympathetic.

Greg looked around, making sure she was addressing him. "Hey…?" he replied, slowly.

"How's your case load?" she asked.

Greg looked at the three files in his hand. "Not bad. Ready to hand one off actually, and then I'll just be down to two."

"Good, good," she said, nodding. "Listen, I don't want to overburden you. I know something's been going on with you, and I just wanted you to know that you can tell me about it. If it's really interfering with your work, you _should_ tell me about it."

"What are you talking about? I'm fine," Greg lied, forcing a smile.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. "Are you and Nick OK?"

"Me and Nick?" Greg laughed. "We're getting breakfast after shift, actually." He threw his thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the theoretical breakfast place. "Hey, you wanna come?"

She sighed. "I'd love to, but… paperwork."

"Maybe next time," Greg said, inwardly sighing with relief that she hadn't called his bluff.

"I'm glad you worked things out," Catherine said with a smile. "He was pretty worked up when he came into my office a couple days ago requesting a transfer."

Greg went pale. "He was that upset? He wanted a _transfer_?"

"Yeah, but I nixed that plan," Catherine assured him. "Obviously. He didn't tell you this?"

"Oh!" Greg said. "Yeah, you know, I think he did… probably. It's something we would have talked about when we… talked about stuff. Right?"

He was beginning to lose her. He could tell by the way her brow knit together at his peculiar intonations. "Right…" she said. "Anyways. Whatever it was, I'm glad it's over, and we can move on with our lives. Next time, either keep it out of work or tell me about it, OK? None of that… ambivalent in between crap. One or the other."

"Will do," Greg assured her, and she smiled as she took off. Greg's stomach lurched. He hated lying to Catherine, but she was right. If this did start interfering with their work, they'd have to tell her, and the last thing he wanted was more people knowing how awful a person he really was. It was bad enough that the whole lab knew he'd slept with Wendy by this point, but it would be worse if they ever found out he'd did it _after_ he'd told Nick he loved him.

But maybe what he'd said to Catherine didn't even have to be a lie. He had stayed away from Nick for two days now. Surely that was enough time for wounds to heal enough to talk about what was happening. So Greg took off down the hall in search of Nick. As he looked, he passed the DNA lab, where Wendy and Mandy were talking. He wasn't sure why, but he slowed to a stop, curious about what the women were doing.

Wendy was holding her hair up with her hands as she spoke to Mandy, and then let it fall back onto her shoulders. Her eyes were bright and she showed the backs of her hands with fingers spread to her friend, speaking rapidly. Greg realized she wasn't wearing her trademark ponytail, which was unusual. He admired the way her sienna curls bounced on her shoulders. Wendy waved a hand in front of her chest in circles, and Greg found his eyes lingering in that area long after her hand had moved on to other gestures. His mind flashed with memories of heavy breathing and sweat and the vanilla warmth of someone who finally understood— And then, he caught himself.

"Oh no…" he groaned, then quickly took off down the hall, ducking into the bathroom. He splashed his face with cold water, then stared at his reflection in the mirror, taking deep breaths. "What am I going to do?" he whispered to his reflection. But the man in the mirror looked just as terrified as Greg felt and offered no answer to his question.

* * *

><p>Wendy walked right up to Hodges' counter. He glanced at her, then looked sharply away.<p>

"Do you need something?" he asked, uncharacteristically timid.

She nodded. "I was wondering if you'd do me a favor. I got invited to a wedding next weekend. A friend from college. I don't actually know her that well, but—"

"Is there a point to this?" Hodges interrupted.

She scowled. "Yeah. I'm getting to it. I put down plus one on the RSVP. I think I did it by accident. Anyway, she's expecting me to bring a date."

"I thought we weren't dating," Hodges said.

"We've never been _on_ a date, because every time I ask, you shoot me down," Wendy replied.

"I know you slept with Greg Sanders," Hodges said.

"That's not the point."

"It _is_ the point, Wendy," Hodges groaned. "I can't… I can't look at you without seeing him. It's disgusting."

"That's a no then?" Wendy asked, tapping her hand against her thigh, clearly annoyed.

"So are you over him now, too?" Hodges returned. "The way you got over me days after you kissed me?"

"That's not fair," Wendy retorted. "I only kissed you because…"

"Because why, Wendy?" Hodges prompted. "What exactly did you want me to do with that? Every time I tried to talk to you about it, you changed the subject, and then you just jump into bed with _Greg Sanders_, of all people?"

"It wasn't _like_ that, all right?" Wendy exclaimed. "Look, I was _trying_ to ask you out. Again!"

"Why don't you ask Greg?" Hodges asked. "Or are you avoiding him now, like you avoided me after you kissed me?"

"Stop _comparing_ yourself to him," Wendy groaned. "Look, what happened… happened. But can't we just move on?"

"Seems that's all you do is move on from one guy to the next," Hodges mumbled.

"At least I'm trying here," Wendy snarled.

"Try harder," Hodges challenged.

"You're acting like a child."

"You're acting like a bitch."

"You know what?" Wendy cried. "I'm sorry I asked. I don't know why I came here. I don't even know why I _used_ to like you, Hodges, all you do is make me _crazy_!" And with one final frustrated growl, she spun on her heel and left.

* * *

><p>Still grumbling, Wendy marched down the hall and into the break room, where she was happy to see a fresh pot of coffee warming. She took the pot and poured herself a mug, then leaned on the counter by the pot, holding the mug in both hands as her blood continued to boil. She'd taken a few sips when Greg came in and saw her. He hesitated, but only for a moment, before he smiled and headed to the coffee pot.<p>

"Good, it's done," he said, pouring himself a mug.

"You made this?" Wendy asked.

"Hell yeah I did," Greg said. "I'm the only one that ever thinks to brew a new pot. Everyone else just expects that someone else will do it."

"Um, Greg?" Wendy said. "That someone else is you."

"Shut up," he muttered, also leaning against the counter, mirroring Wendy. "I know." He took a sip, and his face tinged slightly pink as he looked at her. "Your, uh, hair looks nice today."

She smiled, the compliment warming her better than the coffee. "Thanks." She thought about what Hodges had said. He had practically dared her to ask Greg to the wedding. "Hey… Greg?"

"Mm?"

"Do you want to go to a wedding?"

"So long as it's not my wedding," he said with a smirk.

She laughed, and cringed when it sounded a little too artificial. "Yeah, it's a friend from college. I said I'd have a plus one. I don't have a plus one. I'll be that girl who said she was bringing someone and turns up alone. Don't let me be that girl, Greg."

Greg took another long sip of his coffee, then lowered it again. He sighed. "I want to say yes."

"So say yes."

"You know I can't."

"Why can't you do what you want to do?"

"Because of Nick," Greg said. "And because… even though I know I'm in love with him, I…" He closed his eyes and sighed. "I think I might have feelings for you, too."

And when he said the words out loud, something bubbled inside of Wendy like fresh champagne. But she said nothing. She only shrugged, modestly, trying to act like that didn't matter to her.

Greg sighed. "I know you probably would just want to go as friends. But I'm worried if I see you in some… beautiful dress… I won't be able to be a gentleman."

"I'm not asking you to be a gentleman," Wendy said. "I'm asking you to be my date."

"Am I the first person you asked?"

Wendy chewed on her bottom lip. "No."

"And why did you ask Hodges before me?" Greg pressed, knowing exactly who her first choice had been.

She sighed. "Because I'm insane?"

"You're cute when you're confused," Greg said with a sad smile. Then he frowned, almost wincing. "And I hate that about you."

"You really know how to give a compliment, don't you?"

He opened his mouth to try and explain when Ray Langston walked into the break room and right between them as he took the coffee pot. It reminded Greg how public the room was, and this was a very private conversation. His heart lurched to think how much worse his relationship with Nick could have gotten if the Texan had walked in instead of Ray.

Ray, seeming to realize that he had interrupted something, looked from Wendy to Greg. "Problem?"

"Wendy and I were just discussing a case," Greg said.

Langston went over to the table with his coffee before half-sitting on it and blinking at the pair of them. "Difficult?"

"Complicated," Wendy replied. "Lots of DNA in this one. Four different contributors."

Greg frowned at her, unsure of what she was doing.

"Four?" Langston said, seeming impressed. "What were these people doing at this crime scene?"

"That's what we were trying to figure out," Wendy explained. "It's clear our first person of interest had sex with the second. That we know. But after that, it just gets messy."

"Messier than sex and murder?" Langston asked.

"It hasn't come to murder yet," Wendy said with a wink at Greg.

"Yeah, this conversation is over," Greg decided, taking his coffee to the door in one swift motion. "Wendy, if you have any… breakthroughs on the case, let me know."

"Ball's in your court, Sanders," Wendy reminded him. "I'm waiting on you to tell me how the story ends."

Greg groaned as he left. It was turning into a very long day.


	5. On A Scale of One to Ten

_**Author's**** Note:**_Thanks for all the reviews, I appreciate knowing who's reading. Just posted a silly little one-shot yesterday on my profile (Some Fantastic), if you're interested in goofy optimism, personification, and Nick/Greg. Also, I often preview or post stories first to my livejournal, which is also where I publish icons, videos, etc. If interested, don't be afraid to add me as a friend at smilesinc[dot]livejournal[dot]com. Cheers, and keep the feedback coming - good, bad, ugly.

Chapter Five: On A Scale of One To Ten

"So what'd he say?" Mandy asked the next day, leaning on her forearms which rested on the counter in the DNA lab.

Wendy put some samples in the spinner. "He wants to, but he doesn't feel comfortable with it."

"Did you tell him what you were gonna wear?" Mandy asked.

"Believe it or not, guys aren't that interested in detailed ensemble descriptions," Wendy told her.

"But he's bi, right?" Mandy said. "That makes him, what, half-gay? Doesn't that give him half the fashion sense?"

"Sh!" Wendy hushed, her eyes bulging. "If he found out you know about that, he'll kill me."

"Please, it's not like you told me," Mandy said. "Not your fault I caught him drooling over Nick Stokes during his lunch hour. You just filled in the details. Besides, why would I tell anyone? I like having secrets with you. Also, did you tell him there would be free food?"

"It's a wedding, I think that goes without saying," Wendy replied.

Mandy thought for a moment. "Did you tell him about the open bar?"

Wendy gave her an amused look. "There is no open bar."

"He doesn't know that."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to lie just to get him to come to a wedding with me."

"So here's my real question," Mandy began.

"What have all these other questions been, then?" Wendy returned.

"Shut up. Here's my real question. On a scale of one to ten, how disappointed were you when he said no?"

"_That's_ your real question?"

"Just answer it."

Wendy sighed. "Five?"

Mandy made a face. "You are clearly way too lucky for your own good."

"What's that mean?"

"On a scale of one to ten," Mandy said, "Hodges' moping this past week? Eleven."

"That doesn't make me lucky," Wendy said.

"On a scale of one to ten," Mandy repeated, "the hotness of you having sex with Greg Sanders and managing to not be too awkward about it? Twelve."

"That part was pretty lucky," Wendy conceded. "We're just… really great friends, I guess."

"You don't get it," Mandy said. "You have not one, but two guys who have your back no matter what. And one of them just happens to be in love with you."

"Which one?" Wendy asked, as if Mandy could solve all her problems just by answering that one question.

"On a scale of one to ten," Mandy began as Wendy rolled her eyes, "how disappointed were you when Hodges turned you down?"

Wendy felt her stomach twist. She took a deep breath before saying, "Nine."

"I rest my case," Mandy said

"But that was different!" Wendy protested. "With Hodges, it was all angry and personal and hurtful. Greg was polite. Sweet, even. Explained very well why he would love to, but couldn't. It was thoughtful, and cushioned the blow, so I was less disappointed."

"So this is what I just heard," Mandy began. "With Hodges, it was personal. With Greg, it was polite."

Wendy thought about how Mandy had repeated her words. "OK, when you say it like _that_…" She sighed. "But I've wrecked it all with Hodges. He won't even look at me, let alone go to a wedding with me. And I find the way he is conveniently avoiding Greg oddly disconcerting. Especially as every time Greg's name comes up, he turns red like an angry tomato."

"Do tomatoes have emotions?" Mandy mused, teasingly.

"All fruit emote," Wendy returned. "Didn't you know that?"

"You didn't wreck it all with Hodges," Mandy insisted, seriously. "These things aren't fixed in a day. He just has some unresolved issues he needs to work out, and maybe when that tomato finally turns to ketchup, you two can have a relationship. A messy, messy condiment relationship."

"And what about Greg?" Wendy asked. "He actually told me he thought he had feelings for me."

"So do you have feelings for him?"

Wendy thought about it. "I could. I like him a lot. We get along really well, and the sex…" She smirked. "I don't know."

"Kiss 'im," Mandy said.

"I already did that."

"Stone-cold sober," Mandy clarified. "Kiss him."

"What would that prove?" Wendy asked, shying away from the idea. "All it would do is get both of us in even hotter water with Hodges and Nick."

But Mandy shook her head. "Listen to me, I know about things. All of this started because of one wild night of drunken sex, am I right?"

"Technically, I guess," Wendy acknowledged. "Although it just sounds dirty when you say it like that."

"So you and Greg have never had any sort of intimate or physical relationship without a drop of alcohol in your systems."

"Maybe not…"

"You drank more than wine that night, Wendy," Mandy said. "You drank the Kool-Aid. And it's still in you. You need to get it out of your system. You need to see if what you're feeling is actual feelings, or if it's just, you know, the Kool-Aid."

She frowned. "You think I'm infatuated with Greg because the alcohol made it seem more real than it was?"

"OK, fine, don't use my metaphor, stomp all over my poetic license," Mandy said. "But yeah."

"That's ridiculous," Wendy said, stubbornly.

"So prove it. Kiss him and find out if he's a prince, Cinderella," Mandy dared.

* * *

><p>Greg opened the closed door to Nick's office without knocking, causing him to look up from a stack of paperwork. At just the sight of him, Nick looked utterly exhausted.<p>

"Greg—"

"It's about the Jensen double homicide," Greg interrupted, before Nick could tell him to leave. "I think there might be a connection to your burglary case last week."

At least now Nick looked more intrigued than annoyed. "How do you figure that?"

Greg hesitated a moment. "Uh, Wendy… matched the DNA in the hair that I found on the wife with the epithelials you pulled from the inside of the discarded latex at your scene. Good find on that, by the way."

Nick rolled his eyes at the blatant attempt at flattery. "So the Jensens were probably intended burglary victims, only they ended up being home unexpectedly."

"Looks like," Greg said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. "I just thought you'd want to know. Kay, well… Bye." He turned to leave. He begged for Nick to stop him.

"Greg, wait."

As he placed his hand on the door frame, Greg couldn't keep a triumphant smile from his face. He wiped it off before turning to Nick again. "Yeah?"

Nick scratched the back of his neck. "I know this is… awkward."

"Yeah…"

"I want you to know, I don't want it to be."

"Me either."

"That's why I asked Catherine for a transfer a few days ago."

Greg blinked, feigning surprise. "Wait, what?"

"So that whatever is going on between us, we don't have to compromise any cases because of it," Nick explained.

"What'd she say?" Greg inquired, already knowing the answer.

Nick snorted, as if Catherine's response had been typical. "She rejected it. Which I should have seen coming. So I guess you're stuck with me for now."

"I don't see it as being stuck with you," Greg muttered, half-shrugging. "Do you see it as being stuck with me?"

Nick closed his eyes and rubbed them with his hand. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Be cute like that," Nick explained. "Like you're doing. All cute and contrite. Greg, I know you're sorry. I know it. I just… I can't do this, right now. After how you thought you knew me, and then what you did with… I can barely manage to go into the DNA lab anymore just to get my results. Can't look Wendy in the eye. Wendy. I loved that girl, Greg, and now I can't even look at her."

"I'm… sorry," Greg began. Nick emitted a frustrated sigh. "Look, I know you know that, but I can't stop saying it, all right? I'm sorry I put words in your mouth, I'm sorry I was really stupid about it, I'm sorry I hurt you by what I did with Wendy, and I'm sorry I ruined your friendship with her. I'm sorry I ruined _our_ friendship. I just…" He pursed his lips and shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I know that hoping for… a real relationship right now is too much to ask, but I at least hope that… that we can get our friendship back."

Nick shrugged. "I don't know what to say, Greg."

"Say it's possible," Greg pleaded. "Say anything, just… don't leave me dangling like this."

Nick frowned. "No, let's leave you dangling for a while. Because the honest answer right now, if you forced my hand, is I don't know. I don't."

It was fair, but it still cut to the quick. Greg tried to remember to breathe. "OK. Well… thanks."

"And in the meantime…" Nick began.

"We'll keep it professional," Greg agreed, finishing his thought.

Nick snorted, derisively. "Look at that. For once, you guessed what I was _actually_ gonna say."

Feeling somehow worse than he'd felt when he'd walked in there, Greg turned his back on Nick and left. He felt like he was turning away from Nick a lot lately, and that just made the whole thing feel worse. Every time they spoke, it felt like a battle. And every time, he always retreated with his tail between his legs, licking the wounds Nick's words had left behind. But he'd go to war every day, if there were a chance that he could retrieve what he had lost. He would die every day and let Nick pull the trigger if there were a chance that he could ever be forgiven.

* * *

><p>Greg dragged his feet from Nick's office to the DNA lab. Reliable as ever, there was Wendy, working away. This time, she was making note of what samples she'd tested in the official paperwork while results printed out beside her. She was so busy, she didn't even notice Greg standing there in the doorway watching her.<p>

"I had a dream about you last night."

She jumped at the sound of his voice and nearly dropped the results she'd just picked up. But she recovered quickly and blinked at him a few times. Her next words were colored with a faint shade of pink. "I hope nothing too inappropriate."

"You were in a wedding dress," Greg said, coming into the lab properly. "And I was eating lots of cake. Also, there was a donkey."

"I don't know what that means."

"Me either," Greg said. "But it's better than what happens when I'm awake. I don't know what any of this means either. At least dreams are supposed to be nonsensical."

"Was Nick in your dream?"

Greg thought. "Yes. He tied a blindfold around my eyes then spun me around and told me to hit the donkey. Only it wasn't a piñata, it was a real donkey, and I was afraid I'd hurt it. But I swung the bat anyway."

Wendy gasped, as if the donkey were real. "You didn't hurt the donkey, did you?"

"You're worried about a dream donkey," Greg deadpanned.

Wendy shrugged. "Dream or not, you should never hit an animal with a bat."

Greg frowned. "I don't remember. I just remember what I told you."

"And why _are_ you telling me this, exactly?" Wendy asked.

Greg shook his head. "I can't go to the wedding with you, Wendy."

"I know."

"How'd you know?" Greg asked.

She shrugged again. "It's awkward and complicated and I think it'll hurt Hodges more than I want it to. Also, there's Nick. Obviously, you can't come to the wedding."

He made a face. "I'm sorry, Wendy."

"Don't apologize," Wendy commanded. "I'll figure something out."

"What do we do?" Greg asked, gesturing at the both of them. "About this?"

Wendy's lips twitched. "You know, I…" Then, she closed her eyes and shook her head quickly. "No. Never mind."

Greg frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," Wendy assured him. "Mandy's idea. It was stupid."

"Mandy?" Greg asked.

Wendy pursed her lips. "Yeah. She's kind of who I talk to about things."

"Well, yeah, that makes sense," Greg muttered, as if he'd never actually noticed the closeness of their friendship. "What'd she say?"

"Nothing. She's an airhead," Wendy repeated. "That's why she does fingerprints. With those new instant scanners, she barely has any job left to do. I've warned her that she'll be the first of us to be replaced with a robot." She managed a sad smile. "Hodges insists he'll be the last. Of course."

"Of course," Greg said. "But what did she _say_?"

"Crazy Mandy things," Wendy declared, then her eyes widened. Greg turned around to see Mandy leaning into the DNA lab. She was holding an apple. Greg had no idea how long she had been there, but she wore a cocked eyebrow.

"Does this apple look depressed to you?" she asked Wendy, with a knowing look.

Greg turned back to Wendy, clearly missing something as he watched the DNA tech blush ever so slightly.

"Go make some apple sauce," she said. "Put it out of its misery."

Mandy smirked, gave Greg an approving look up and down, and took a bite out of her apple. "I'll give you this, he's no tomato." And with that, she turned around and went back to her lab.

"Was I supposed to understand that?" Greg asked.

"I didn't even understand it," said Wendy. "Like I said, crazy Mandy things."

Greg looked over his shoulder at the spot where Mandy had been. "OK. Well, I guess I better get back to work. I don't even know what I came in here for."

"You don't?" Wendy asked.

"I do," Greg confessed. "Talking to you makes me feel better."

She smiled as the warmth of his compliment spread outward from her stomach. Greg turned to leave but before he really could, he felt her seize his wrist and sling him back again and into a deep kiss. Though he was at first surprised by her sneak attack, it didn't take him long to figure out what was going on, and he returned her passion out of politeness. Then, he realized he shouldn't have been thinking of the quality of a kiss like the firmness of a handshake.

They broke a part. Greg was still trying to sort out exactly what had just occurred between the two of them and what it meant. Wendy rocked back on her feet and licked her lips, eyeing him expectantly. When he remained speechless, she prompted, "Well?"

Greg frowned, his brain still trying to come to a conclusion. "Well… what?" he said, slowly.

"How was that?"

He blinked. She was asking about the kiss. She was asking if he'd liked it. If there were fireworks. She was asking if it was as good as it had been the night they'd made love. Greg scrambled for an answer that wouldn't upset her, but he also wanted to be honest. "It was… fine." The minute he said it, he flinched, knowing that no one ever wanted to hear that they kissed 'fine.'

But Wendy burst out laughing. Greg was puzzled by this reaction, and he had the strange humiliated feeling that he was the butt of a cruel practical joke. "Oh, thank God!" Wendy cried.

"What?" Greg demanded, looking around for hidden cameras.

She calmed down slightly and gestured at herself. "Me too," she assured him.

Relief surged through him like warm water. "Oh good… You're not, you know, offended?"

"No," she insisted. "I'm—"

"Making fun of me?" Greg broke in.

She looked baffled by the accusation. "I'm _relieved_."

"Oh…" Greg mumbled. His brain was still trying to come to the conclusion Wendy had already reached seconds ago. "I'm surprised… All up until now, I've always felt…"

"I know," Wendy said.

"And then you went and…"

"I know."

"And now I don't really feel…"

"I _know_!" Wendy exclaimed, as if it were the most amazing thing in the world.

And then, it clicked in his head, and Greg realized the significance of the whole situation. "Wow. I guess that answers that question…" Greg said, thoughtfully. "Thanks, Wendy."

"Any time."

Greg turned to leave but as he headed towards the door, he saw David Hodges out the window a little ways down the hall. The trace tech did an about face and headed in the absolute opposite direction. At first, he wondered at this behavior, but after a moment, his slow brain remembered the very important event that had just occurred. Standing in the doorway, he looked back in at Wendy, who seemed much happier all of a sudden as she went about her work. He hoped more for her sake than his that Hodges hadn't seen what had happened in there, although something deep in his gut told him that he had never been so lucky.


	6. A Bloody Doze

**_Author's_ Note:** Good to see I have a convert, or at least one who can tolerate the Nick/Greg pairing more than before, Mma63. Thanks for trusting in my story-telling skills in spite of the fact that I'm writing about a pairing you don't read! This story is finished, so posting might be faster (maybe later this week, depending on interest). In the meantime, I'm working on three other stories - the Epilogue to Complex (no, I haven't forgotten!), a story called the Seventh Son, the summary for which can be found on my profile, and a preview can be found at my livejournal (user: smilesinc), and lastly, a story called Grim Fandango, which I'll discuss later, but is basically a dark comedy about Nick and Greg's friendship (no slash in that one, though). Alright, plugging over, go ahead and read the chapter!

Chapter Six: A Bloody Doze

It was the end of the day on Friday and Greg was looking forward to going home and putting the better part of this week behind him. He thought about the kiss he had shared with Wendy earlier that shift, and how much clearer things seemed to him now. If only he could make them clear to Nick.

He opened his locker and hung up his lab coat, right next to his vest. He took out his jacket and closed the door. But before he could even put the jacket on, something hit him hard in the nose, sending a shockwave of pain rippling through the bone and directly into the brain. He cursed loudly and profusely as he stumbled backwards, his hands cupping his face as he doubled over.

"Ow!" someone else said, though who, Greg had to take a moment to figure out. His ears were ringing, and his eyes were shut tight to keep out the tears, so it was hard to determine. Slowly, he recovered, and when he was convinced that his eyes wouldn't leak when he opened them, his lids opened wide and he tilted his head back. He saw David Hodges standing in front of him, shaking out his hand.

One hand hovering over his nose, Greg exclaimed, "… the _fuck_, Hodges!"

"You have a hard face," Hodges returned with a haughty sneer.

"You shouldn't have hit it with your _fist_!" Greg snapped. His tongue shot up over his lip, where it lapped at the wet metallic tang. "Great, I'b bleeding." He frowned. "I'b… bay be by bo boo… _fuck_!" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Dow I talk like ad idiot. Thanks."

"Hey, _I'm_ not the bad guy here!" Hodges declared.

"I don't have tibe for this," Greg said, holding up his hand. "I deed ice and a towel. Cad you help be out here?"

"You're asking the guy that just hit you for help?" Hodges asked.

"You've got it out of your systeb," Greg said. "So, would you help be?"

Hodges gaped at him. "I oughtta hit you again."

Greg laughed. "You're dot the type to—"

_Wham!_ There it was, this time clear across the jaw, and hard enough to slam Greg into the metal wall of lockers, as he wasn't expecting it. He straightened, a little disoriented and leaned his back against the lockers as he rubbed his jaw and manually moved it in circles. "What is wrong with you?" he said, slowly, and winced as it ached to move his mouth.

"You know what that was for," Hodges said. "You knew what the first one was for, and you still just tried to brush it off like now we're even?"

"You and Wendy aren't eved—"

"But you _knew_," Hodges growled. "You _knew_ how I feel, how we feel about each other, and you went after her _anyway_."

"For the record, I dever went _after_ her," Greg said. "It just… happened."

"Oh, well, that's OK then," Hodges said, sarcastically. "And I suppose that kiss today 'just happened' too, right?"

"Doe…" Greg moaned. "I bead… yeah, kinda. I dud doe. Wendy… she kissed be, Hodges, and only to see how it bade us feel."

"_What_ is going on here?"

Both Hodges and Greg turned to see Catherine standing perplexed at the end of the rows of lockers, by the door. Nick stood behind her in the doorway. Greg put his hand over his nose to hide his injuries, embarrassed.

"Duthing, I fell," Greg said, flinching at the fact that it sounded like the excuse of a battered wife.

And Catherine would never buy it. "Fell?" she said, skepticism oozing from the single syllable.

Hodges half-shrugged. "He tripped over the bench, slammed headfirst into the lockers. True story."

"Is there a problem here?" Catherine demanded with her hand on her hip, looking from one to the other. Greg turned away from them so they couldn't see his face and walked up the row of lockers.

"Doe."

"What?"

"He said no," Hodges translated. He pointed at his own nose. "Something wrong with the…"

"So you're telling me I don't have to write up a report?" Catherine asked.

"Doe," Greg repeated flatly.

"Greg, are you _sure_ you—"

"Doe!" Greg burst out, spinning around to face them. Catherine and, Greg noticed, even Nick, made a face in sympathy when they saw his. "I said doe."

"A deer," Hodges muttered. Greg swatted him in the arm and he flinched, but it didn't stop him from adding, "A female deer."

"Shuddup," Greg snapped, even as he saw Nick fight a smile. "It's fide, Catherid."

Even Catherine was trying not to smile now. "Honey, we gotta get you cleaned up."

And then, something Greg hadn't expected happened. Nick stepped forward. "I'll help him." He tossed his head over his shoulder, now not even trying to hide his amusement. "C'mon, Greg."

Greg tossed a scathing look at Hodges who simply stared back inscrutably. But he looked away before Hodges did, knowing that he had at least deserved the first punch, if not the second one. He passed Catherine, who put a hand on his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow.

"Really? You're letting Hodges off the hook here?"

Greg shrugged. "Just trust be when I say I deserve worse."

She frowned, but her hand slid off his shoulder and she let it go. Greg took only a few more steps before he was face to face with Nick. The Texan stepped aside so that Greg could exit.

"Let's go," Nick said. "Break room. There's a sink and a first aid kit there."

Greg was only too happy to follow him. He took a seat at the table while Nick fetched the kit. Greg took the opportunity to test his jaw. He rubbed it with his hand.

"You know," Nick said, conversationally, "I don't really think there _is_ a worse thing than being punched by David Hodges and pretending that you ran into a locker."

Greg snorted. "Oh, really?"

Nick went over to the sink. "Yeah, really." He turned on the faucet. He dampened a piece of cloth from the kit, then came over and kneeled in front of Greg. "Tilt your head back." Greg obliged and Nick touched the warm cloth to his nose.

"Ow."

"Oh, please," Nick said, rolling his eyes.

"Careful with that cloth," Greg said. "There's still a doze under all that blood, you doe."

Nick laughed and furrowed his brow as he smiled. "There's gotta be something obstructing it that's making you talk like that. Here…" He gently wiped away the rest of the blood, then patted it dry. He made a face. "It's pretty swollen."

"Great."

"I don't think anything's been displaced. You might want to see a doctor when the swelling goes down, to be sure."

Greg groaned. "Just by luck I guess."

"How's your breathing?"

Greg inhaled through his nose and it sounded like he had a cold. He winced, and started coughing. Nick put a hand on his shoulder as he recovered. "I think I just breathed id blood."

"Here, I'll get you some ice," Nick said, rising to his feet and going over to the freezer. He took out an ice pack and wrapped it in a paper towel. He came back and kneeled in front of Greg again, placing the ice against Greg's nose.

"You could have just given be the ice pack," Greg said, raising his hand and placing it over Nick's on the ice.

"Where's the fun in that?" Nick asked.

In spite of himself, Greg smiled. "You know, by jaw still hurts, too."

"Oh, it does, does it?" Nick said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"There's still a part of me that agrees with Hodges," Nick said. "And I think you're trying to milk this Florence Nightingale thing for everything you can get."

Greg's smile faded a little. "I really am sorry, Nick."

Nick sighed. "Your lisp is almost gone. I think the blood was obstructing your nasal pathway. That's a good sign—"

"Really," Greg insisted, cutting him off and reaching out to take Nick's other hand. "I've been a total idiot lately, and… I'm sorry that I made you hurt like that. I… never knew I could do that to you."

Nick was quiet as he looked down, avoiding Greg's eyes. "OK…" was all he could manage to say.

Greg pressed on. "Wendy's a great girl. She's gorgeous, funny, sweet—"

"Not helping yourself, G."

"— but I could never love her the way I love you," Greg finished, trying to catch Nick's elusive eye. "I realized that today. I realized exactly what it was that I've lost."

Nick took his hand away and let Greg hold his own ice pack. "It's gonna take some time, Greg."

"I get that," Greg said. "I do, I just… need to know that you can… forgive me… eventually."

In response, Nick got up and walked over to the freezer. This made Greg very nervous and he tensed his shoulders. He expected Nick to say something along the lines of, _Just because I feel sorry you got your nose broken doesn't mean I forgive you_. But then, he reminded himself, that putting words in Nick's mouth was exactly how he'd gotten into this mess in the first place. So he tried to remain calm and wait for Nick to speak for himself. After all, this could just be Nick letting him dangle a little while longer. Nick opened the freezer and pulled something out of it.

"So… what are you doing?" Greg asked, trying to sound casual.

Nick closed the freezer door and turned around, holding another ice pack. "You said your jaw still hurt."

And while it was true, his non-answer was making something else hurt, something worse, and it was beginning to drive Greg crazy. "Yeah…"

Nick approached, holding the ice pack in one hand. "Which side?"

Greg pointed to his left cheek. "He's actually got a pretty mean right hook."

Nick smirked, placing the ice pack against Greg's jaw. "You're bleeding again."

"What?"

"Hold this," Nick said, taking Greg's left hand and placing it on the other ice pack. He got up again and went to the first aid kit and brought back some gauze. He took the ice pack from Greg's nose and dabbed at the blood again, rolling a second piece of gauze into a cylinder. And then, unexpectedly, he shoved that cylinder up a nostril.

"Ow, careful!"

"You're such a baby," Nick said, handing the ice pack back to Greg.

Greg placed the ice pack back on his nose. "I got a swolled doze here."

Nick grinned. "There's that lisp again."

"It's your stupid gauze," Greg insisted.

"That stupid gauze is keeping you from bleeding out through your nose," Nick returned with a chuckle.

Greg pouted. "It still hurts."

"What did you expect?" Nick said.

"Got anything in that kit for the pain?" Greg asked.

Nick put his hands on Greg's knees, his eyebrows raised. He smiled, leaned forward, and kissed Greg's forehead. Greg closed his eyes and let the heat radiate out through the rest of his body. He could feel Nick's hands still firmly on his knees even as the Texan pulled away from him.

"Better?" Nick asked.

Greg felt his face flush as he grinned. "A bit."

Nick snorted. "A bit?"

"You could do better," Greg dared.

"Don't get greedy," Nick said. He reached over onto the table. "You can have these."

Greg looked at the packet of ibuprofen. "I'd rather have the other stuff."

Nick got up again and scooped up a mug, filling it with water. "What's in your hand will be more effective."

"I disagree," Greg said.

"Disagree all you want," Nick replied, handing him the mug of water. "Just take the pills."

Greg scowled, but indulged him. As Greg drank the rest of the water, Nick shook his head and laughed.

"What?" Greg demanded.

"You look a sight," Nick returned. "That's all. Kinda makes me feel a little better, actually."

"Oh, you _like_ seeing by doze swolled up like Rudolph, do you?" Greg asked. "Baybee I was bistaked."

"I'm sorry, what?" Nick asked.

"A bistake," Greg repeated. "Be, falling for you. What did I ever see id you?"

"Yes," Nick said, after a long pause.

"That wasn't a yes or doe question," Greg said.

"No, that was a response to the question you asked earlier," Nick told him. "Or, the question you implied, with that fishing expedition."

Greg's mouth fell open slightly. "Yes, you… forgive be?"

"Yes, I'm _capable_ of forgiving you," Nick explained. "I think. The more I look at that pitiful face, the easier it gets, God help me."

Greg's eyes grew wide and sweet. "Well, what cad I say? I'b adorable."

That was too much for Nick and he turned away from Greg as he burst out laughing. As he recovered, he shook his head in disbelief. "So do you want to know what I would have said to your little confession on Monday? And not, you know, what you said _for_ me?"

"Gotta adbit, I'b a little curious," Greg said with a timid shrug.

"Curious," Nick repeated with an enigmatic smirk. He moved in closer and placed a hand over the ice pack Greg was holding against his cheek. He took it away and placed it on the table by the ice pack for his nose. He replaced it with his hand, rubbing his fingers along Greg's jaw line. The skin beneath his fingers was cool and rough and he traced the purples and blues were blossoming there.

"Still sore," Greg said.

"Baby," Nick repeated.

"So what were you godda say?" Greg pressed.

Nick didn't answer at first. He just stood there, looking down at Greg looking up at him, his fingers curling against Greg's cheek. "I don't know if I want to tell you. I don't think I'm done being mad at you yet."

"Take adother look at by face," Greg said, pointing at it as if Nick had forgotten where it was.

This elicited another chuckle, and Nick nodded. "OK," he said, then bent at the hip, closed his eyes, and brushed his lips against Greg's. He was gentle, being very careful with Greg's nose, but his tongue still slipped through. It was Greg who pushed forward, a little too eagerly. He groaned as he bumped his sore nose, but he didn't pull away. He'd been waiting for this for far too long to let an injury caused by David Hodges of all people to come between him and Nick. His hands flew up, one combing into Nick's hair from the side, the other gripping the back of his neck as he rose to his feet. Nick's hand remained against his cheek, but the other slid into the small of Greg's back. Eventually, and as much as he didn't want to, Greg pulled away and gasped for air. He had to break away from Nick as he caught his breath.

"You OK?" Nick asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Greg nodded, even as his shoulders heaved up and down. "Can't… breathe…" he smirked, then pointed at his face again. "Broked… doze…"

Nick's hand flew over his mouth to cover his smile. He looked a little embarrassed. "Right."

Greg, breathing more normally, cocked his head at Nick. "You dever told me what you would have said."

Nick gestured at Greg. "That… was it."

Greg touched his fingers to his lips. "You… were godda kiss be?"

Nick shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. "I wanted to," he confessed. And then he narrowed his eyes. "Until you went on that crazy monologue about who you thought I was. Big turnoff."

"I'll add that to your file," Greg said, tapping his temple. "Doesn't like being told who he is or what he thinks."

Nick leaned against the sink. "You have a file on me?"

"I have a file od _everybody_," Greg said. "Yours is adbittedly the largest."

Nick nodded. "You must have some faulty information in that thing, then, if you thought that I'd reject you."

"Those files have already bid shredded," Greg promised.

"How big is your file on Wendy?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Don't start that. I told you. I love Wendy. I'b _id_ love with you."

"About how much do you love Wendy?" Nick pressed.

Greg chortled. "You're _actually_ jealous, aren't you? I dever thought I'd see the day…"

"What?" Nick asked.

Greg shrugged. "You, jealous. Over _be_. It's kinda hot."

Nick also shrugged, a little sheepishly. He avoided looking at Greg and it stabbed at the younger man, reminding him that all was not well, that wounds were still fresh, and Nick was still feeling it. "You did sleep with her." The words, spoken aloud, sounded cruder than the act itself had been, and it made Greg flinch.

"I did," he conceded. "I was also drunk and thought you hated be. I probably would have slept with a walrus, if it was there. Frankly, I'b glad it was Wendy and not some hideous stranger I'd bet at a bar."

"Why?" Nick asked.

"Well," Greg explained, "imagid how buch bore you would have hated be if you'd showd up and there was a walrus id by bed. Talk about awkward. At least Wendy's sweet. And pretty. And hubad."

Nick sighed. "I don't hate you, Greg."

"You do," Greg said. "And it's OK. It's just a little, and it's datural. It bay even go away, eventually. But right dow? It's OK that you hate be. Just… don't blabe Wendy, OK? She has eduff problebs of her own right dow."

"I think _you_ have a pretty big problem," Nick said, pointing at his own nose. He smirked. "And we should probably get that checked out by a real doctor now. Let's head over to the hospital."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's<em> Note:** I know not all of the "n"s and "m"s in Greg's speech were changed - that has to do with how the phoneme sounds in the context of the word, like in Wendy's name. Because it blends with the "d" phoneme, there was no real reason to remove it from the word to reflect Greg's lisp. So leaving in a few "m"s and "n"s here and there was intentional, just for the record.


	7. Common Enemies

**_Author's_ Note:** As promised, an early(ish) update for this week. Expect another early update soon!

Chapter Seven: Common Enemies

Though there was technically no door to the trace lab, Wendy knocked on the frame anyway. Hodges looked up from a microscope to see who it was, then looked back at his particulates without even acknowledging her. She entered anyway.

"I heard you punched Greg in the nose."

Without looking up, he asked, "Are you mad?"

Wendy thought about it. "No, not really."

"That's new," Hodges said. "You're always mad at me about something, and the one time you have good reason to be, you decide not to be."

"It's not something I _decided_, all right?" Wendy snapped, feeling the anger that she didn't have five seconds ago suddenly bubble to the surface. She let out a frustrated sigh, once again asking herself what it was about David Hodges that got under her skin so well. She took a deep breath. "You know, I came in here to apologize."

"Also new," Hodges noted, still looking through his microscope.

Wendy narrowed her eyes. "Most people say, 'I accept your apology.'"

"Fine," Hodges said. "I accept your apology."

"Liar."

"You lied first."

Wendy was quiet. She had to admit she walked right into that. She bowed her head. "I'm… not sure what to do about this."

Hodges finally pulled his eyes away from the microscope, but he stared straight ahead, instead of turning to Wendy. After a moment, he managed a glance. "Me either," he confessed.

"Well, maybe that's something we can work from," Wendy suggested. "Our mutual ignorance."

"Is that like mutual isolation?"

"I'm trying to make amends here, Hodges," Wendy growled.

"So am I," he returned. "But that's just another thing I've always been bad at."

Wendy raised her eyebrows. "I never thought I'd hear you admit to being bad at anything."

"Well, I am," Hodges admitted with a tired shrug. "I'm bad at a lot of things. Especially when it comes to you."

Wendy began to wring her hands as she nodded. "I get that. Sympathize, even."

"So what does that mean?" Hodges asked. "About… us?"

"Let's… start over," Wendy suggested.

Hodges cracked a smile. "I'd like that."

"OK…" Wendy said, smiling herself. "OK then. Clean slate."

Hodges' expression contorted as he looked away from her. "I'm sorry I called you a… you know."

She smiled. Clearly apologies were not his specialty. It looked like it caused him physical pain to say the words. "I'm sorry I made you say it."

Hodges nodded. "I hope we can…" He squinted at her, then looked sharply away, shaking his head again. "No, I'm sorry. Greg _Sanders_? Really? I thought you had better taste than that."

"You only rag on Greg so much because you're afraid to admit that you actually like the guy," Wendy said, astutely.

"Maybe I do," Hodges said. "Does that make what you did better or worse?"

"What happened to our clean slate?" Wendy asked.

"I guess…" He sighed. "I guess I just can't. Right now. I can't get the image of you two out of my head."

"Oh my god…" Wendy said, rolling her eyes. "We're in your _head_?"

"Not by choice, believe me," Hodges said, his eyes wide. "And it's disturbing."

"I see," Wendy said. "You need to get something else in your head."

"I've been trying all day," Hodges told her.

"I can fix that," Wendy said, confidently.

"If I can't, then I don't think you…"

Wendy took a step forward and slid her hands across Hodges' shoulders, resting her forearms against them and linking her thumbs together. She raised her eyebrows in a dare, then tilted her head down and leaned in close so their noses were almost touching. "How do you want me?" she whispered.

Hodges' jaw hung slack as his eyes glazed over. For a moment, he didn't move, he just stared back into Wendy's deep brown eyes. But then, he slowly shook his head. "I'm not sure right now."

She smiled, then leaned forward and he closed his eyes, anticipating her lips against his, but she moved past his mouth and gently kissed his cheek. He opened his eyes again. Wendy pulled backwards to see his face. "You mean so much more to me than a one night stand with anyone else," she told him, honestly. "So let's take it slow. All right?"

"How slow?"

"We'll see," Wendy said.

"Oooh…" came someone else's pained voice, and both Wendy and Hodges turned to the door to see Archie there with an awkward look on his face. The two immediately broke apart. Wendy coughed and Hodges returned to his microscope as if no one else but him was in the room.

"Sorry if this is a bad time," Archie began. "But Henry wanted you both to know…" he smirked, "that he's rooting for Greg on this one."

"What?" both Hodges and Wendy exclaimed in unison.

"I just won't tell him what I saw here," Archie assured them both. "After all, I've got fifty bucks on you, Hodges."

Hodges chose to take this as a compliment and looked truly flattered, much to Wendy's chagrin. "Thanks."

"Any time," Archie said with a wink. "You're ruthless. After all the trouble you went through to sabotage Henry's date with Wendy, I have no doubt you can crush Greg's chances, too."

"Hey!" Wendy protested. "Standing right here, you know!"

"Yeah, I know," Archie said, clearly unimpressed.

"And you're betting on my love life? Can't you dorks find something _else_ to waste your money on?"

Archie shrugged. "What can I say? Slow night. If it makes you feel better, Bobby's got a hundred bucks on you rejecting both of them."

"That doesn't make me feel better," Wendy growled.

Archie shrugged. "Can't say I didn't try. Later." And he ducked out.

"I hate this lab," Wendy said, shaking her head.

"Don't listen to him," Hodges told her.

Wendy narrowed her eyes. "Why are you smirking?"

"Archie bet on a winner," Hodges replied. "Maybe I should follow his lead."

"You're an idiot," Wendy said, in absolute awe.

"But I'm your idiot, right?"

Wendy rolled her eyes as she slugged him in the arm.

"Ow!" Hodges yelped, clearly exaggerating his pain.

But even Wendy had to crack a smile.

* * *

><p>The following Monday, Catherine found herself short-staffed and overwhelmed. She looked at her assembled trio of CSIs and her four case slips, then at the stack of paperwork still on her desk. One of the cases was supposedly pretty extensive and would require at least two CSIs, which she couldn't spare. <em>If only Ray hadn't come down with the stomach flu<em>, she thought to herself. _I might have been able to swing this._ As it was, she looked at Sara, Nick and Greg.

"OK, Greg…" she began, looking at her first case. "How's the nose?"

Greg tapped the bridge of the appendage in question, which had minor bandages across it but was otherwise clearly healing. "I'll survive."

"Good to hear it," Catherine said, "because I need you to take a 406 at the Swanson estate on Eastlake."

"For real?" Greg asked, and she smiled to see the excitement in his eyes. "Rhonda 'Swan Song' Swanson?"

"I thought you would probably appreciate this job the most," she told him, "considering her infamous past as one of the Vegas's best cat burglars. It seems the expert has been beaten at her own game. You think you can handle this on your own?"

"_Can_ I?" Greg said, sounding like a kid in a candy shop as he swiped the assignment. Without a word, he spun around and headed out the door.

"Uh…" Catherine looked from one of her CSIs to the other, then seemed to land on one. "Sara," she said. "419 in Blackbird Park."

"On it," Sara said with a smile. She took the assignment and left.

"Nick, I wish I could go with you on this one," Catherine said. "It's kind of a big job for one person. Dispatch said blood everywhere, and lots of ground to cover…" She trailed off as she watched Wendy walk by her office looking at some files, her ponytail swinging from side to side. Then, she smiled. "Actually, I have an idea."

Nick, whose back had been to the door, followed Catherine with his eyes as she jogged out of her office to catch up with the DNA tech.

"Wendy!" she called, making the woman in question halt and turn to her.

"What's up?"

"419 on Fremont," Catherine said. "You interested?"

Wendy's eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack," Catherine said, then looked at the description. "Or, rather, as a beheading."

"Did Ecklie clear this?"

"You've been out in the field before on rotations," Catherine said. "And Conrad doesn't have to clear every staffing choice I make. Ray called in sick, and Nick could really use a hand with this."

Wendy hesitated. "Nick?" she repeated.

"He'll be the primary, he just needs another pair of eyes," Catherine said. "Look, if you're worried, he's a great teacher. Not that I think you need looking after. You and Hodges did a great job on that arson case."

"No, that's not…"

Catherine was baffled. She gave Wendy a slightly irritated look saying that she didn't see what the problem was. "You want to make the transfer to the field someday, don't you? C'mon, we need you."

Wendy's eyes focused on something behind Catherine. The supervisor turned to see that she was watching Nick, who was standing in the doorway. He was wearing a forced smile, and Catherine was beginning to wonder what she was missing.

"Catherine's right, Wendy. It sounds like a pretty messy scene. I'm sure I could use a wingman."

Catherine turned back to the DNA tech and held out the assignment expectantly, but Wendy had gone as pale as a ghost. Nonetheless, she seemed to swallow whatever misgivings she had and nodded, taking the assignment from Catherine.

* * *

><p>Wendy was even more nervous than she normally was on the rare opportunities that she was allowed into the field. Unlike Hodges, who loathed such "field trips," she relished every last minute when she could get them, although she did feel a bit guilty about being so ecstatic at crime scenes. Unfortunately, today was not as thrilling as usual. As she collected the evidence, her hands trembled. She scolded herself and tried to remember to remain focused.<p>

On the way over, Nick hadn't said a word. Wendy had decided not to press the matter and had contented herself with watching the scenery out the window as her colleague concentrated on driving. She knew he'd only agreed to let her come along out of professional courtesy. Nick wasn't the type of guy to let personal conflict interfere with his job. Nevertheless, Wendy couldn't help but feel a prickly air emanating from him, though he was nothing but polite to her. She knew she deserved every last bad vibe that was being sent her way, and she took it stoically.

Now that they were at the scene, Nick would only speak to her about the evidence and the case, and very succinctly. There was no sign of the usual bad jokes or teasing that generally occurred among those in the CSI club. Wendy tried to pretend that this was normal.

"Body dump," Nick was saying, cataloging what looked like tire marks in blood. "Car was going pretty fast. Tossed the body here… and another car ran over it." He took a few pictures. Wendy had the impression that he was talking more to himself than he was to her. She took a few paces down the road, keeping her eyes on the grassy ditch. She followed a trail in the grass where the blades seemed to have been flattened by something rolling.

"I found his head," she called out.

"Where?" Nick asked, approaching her.

She pointed at the ditch. She wanted to make a joke about how 'heads will roll,' but thought better of it. Instead, she simply answered, "There." She staggered a bit ungracefully down the slope to photograph it then lifted it with her gloved hands.

"Let me see that," Nick said, gesturing at her to bring it over.

Wendy climbed back up the embankment and handed it to him when she was about waist level to him.

There was a catcall from one of the officers. "Hey, Wendy! You giving Nick head too, now?"

There were some snickers from the other cops. Nick tensed as he held onto the dismembered body part while Wendy felt her face turn bright red and she ducked her head, pressing her chin to her chest. She climbed up the rest of the way to get out of that awkward position and turned sharply right before walking a ways away, trying to focus on some skid marks further down the road. These ones were regular skid marks, without a trace of blood in them. She reasoned they could have been from the original car that had dumped the body.

"What's the matter, Wendy?" another cop called out. "Henry, Hodges and Greg not enough for you?"

She closed her eyes tight, cursing herself for reacting to a couple of jeers from a few chauvinists. She reminded herself that this wasn't the first time she'd come across this attitude. After all, being a smart woman in a male dominated profession does have its downsides. But the fact that they were saying it in front of Nick, the fact that he had every right to join them and make fun of her, but didn't, somehow made the taunts that much worse. With a single sniff, she opened her eyes wide, took out her camera, and took a picture of the road.

For a while, she and Nick worked in silence. He would comment when he saw something unusual, and she would let him know exactly what she was doing before she did it, so that nothing could be questioned in court. Once or twice, Nick even gave her a piece of advice about how to collect something, or what to look for. When they were all finished, they packed their kits.

"We done here?" one of the uniforms asked Nick.

"I think so," he replied.

Wendy glanced over and saw that it was the same trio that had called out those jokes earlier. She tried to hold her head up high as she followed Nick past them.

"Hey, Wendy," one of them said, a little quieter as she passed. She decided to ignore him, but he said her name again. "Wendy!"

Reluctantly, she stopped, forced an overly polite grin, and turned to face her harasser, wordlessly asking what he wanted with a raise of her eyebrows.

"I was wondering if you could do me a little favor. Give me a little head's up about who you're thinking of going for next. Seriously, now. Because if it _is_ Nick, I might have to change my bet."

Wendy's smile evaporated. "Oh, I get it. You're in on _that_ stupid thing."

"So, any insight? Help a guy out, I've got alimony to pay."

"Yeah," Wendy said. "Waste your money on something else." She turned to leave again.

He seized her arm, his fingernails digging into her skin. "C'mon," the officer cajoled, licking his lips.

"Let me go," Wendy said evenly, her voice icy and quietly threatening like a dark room with something unseen growling in the corner.

He obeyed, raising his hands in the air as if at gun point, but that slimy smile was still in place. "No harm done! But seriously, now, give me some intel. Because…" and then, he made a lewd gesture with his hips, "right now, my money's on you fucking _me_—"

Before he could even finish the sentence, and before Wendy could be outraged in her own right, someone else had silenced the cop by swiping him hard across the face. As she stood stunned and blinking, it took Wendy a moment to realize that it had been Nick who had come to her aid. The officer stumbled backwards into his two friends who caught his arms, holding his hands over his face and cursing at Nick. Meanwhile, Nick calmly turned around and walked back over to the car as if nothing had happened. The cop's friends were checking to see if he was OK, looking from him to Nick as if uncertain of what to do next.

Wendy was a bit uncertain herself. She looked wide-eyed from the trio of uniforms to Nick's retreating back.

"I'm reporting you!" the cop with the black eye called at Nick's back. In reply, the Texan did nothing but raise his middle finger as he walked, before throwing his kit in the car.

"You'll keep your mouth shut," Wendy advised, the beast in the shadows stepping into the light. "Unless you want another sexual harassment write-up in your file."

All of a sudden, the cop showed real fear. "Whoah, I was just _kidding_," he insisted. "God, can't you take a joke?"

Wendy rolled her eyes and turned to walk away herself.

"Fucking bitch," she heard the cop mutter.

She stopped in her tracks, took a deep breath, spun around and kneed the officer in the groin. "I'm tired of people calling me that," she said as he doubled over in pain. "Report me if you want, but I know you _and_ your history, Jackson. I would have thought you'd have had those sensitivity seminars memorized by now." She looked menacingly at his two friends who held up their hands in surrender. She smiled, then turned to join Nick in the car.

He was waiting for her in the front seat. When she climbed in, he turned the key in the ignition and occupied himself with pulling out onto the road. "You shouldn't have kicked him," he said.

"Like hell I shouldn't have," Wendy returned. "_You_ shouldn't have punched him."

"I don't care if I get written up," Nick said. "But now, he's gonna paint you the bad guy, and he has the injuries to prove it."

"You think he's gonna show his purple balls to Ecklie?" Wendy asked. "Because honestly, that's almost worth it in and of itself."

To her surprise, Nick actually smiled. He didn't say anything for a moment as he pursed his lips. "They shouldn't have been saying those things to you," he said at last.

"I'm just impressed you didn't join them," Wendy muttered, looking out the window again.

"Are you kidding?" Nick exclaimed, sounding appalled. "You _actually_ think I'd ever say something like that? Jesus, does _no one_ I work with know me?"

"You wouldn't say it," Wendy conceded. "But you have to admit… when you saw me in Greg's apartment, you were thinking it."

"I wasn't," he insisted, shaking his head.

"Oh?" Wendy pressed, turning to him.

"No. I wasn't thinking about you at all, actually."

"Oh…" Wendy said, looking away again.

There was another long period of silence as Nick drove back to the lab. Wendy dug her nails into her knees and wondered if things between them would ever be OK again.

"I know you're a good person, Wendy," Nick said at last. "And I don't blame you for what happened."

"Why do I feel like that's not exactly true, then?" Wendy asked.

"OK," Nick agreed. "I'm _trying_ not to blame you for what happened. And I've always liked you. Really. Anyone ever talks to you like that again, you let me know. I'll kick his ass."

"Not if I kick it first," Wendy returned with a smirk.

"You're gonna get yourself into trouble with that attitude, you know that?"

"What, you still worried about what Jackson's gonna say about me?" Wendy asked. "Please. Guy can't afford another harassment charge. He's already been disciplined for it three times."

"Really?" Nick said. "How do you know that?"

"Three words," Wendy said. "Mandy, Sofia, and Riley. In that order. Dumbass."

"How come I never heard about any of these?" Nick asked incredulously.

Wendy shrugged. "We don't whine about it. We report it and move on. I mean, what do you take us for, little girls?"

Nick snorted. "Not funny."

"We're used to it," Wendy explained, more seriously. "In our line of work… it happens."

"But it shouldn't," Nick said. "Wendy, whatever is going on with us, don't you ever think I will let people talk like that about you. OK?"

"OK," Wendy promised, knowing that she should have never doubted Nick in the first place.

* * *

><p>Greg was whistling as he strolled down the hallway to the lab, having just dropped off some fingerprints for Mandy to run for his case. After his last week, it was nice to begin the new one with an opportunity to meet a real live cat burglar who had only ever served two years in prison. Despite Greg's profession, and his passion for seeing criminals get their just deserts, he had always admired the grace and, frankly, art that Rhonda Swanson had brought to burglary. Every single door of homes she'd hit remained locked from the inside, and every window was untouched. To this day, police had no idea how Swanson managed to slip in and out of so many houses without leaving a trace that she was ever there. In fact, the lack of evidence was sort of her signature, and one reason why it was difficult to make charges stick. Greg hadn't been able to stop grinning when he'd listened to her criticize the crudeness of the method of whoever had burgled her home. She had seemed more upset by the mess of evidence left behind than the fact that she was missing several pieces of jewelry and electronics.<p>

As he rounded the corner, ready to catch some much needed lunch, he stopped dead in his tracks, then backtracked and hid behind the corner. He peeked around it. Nick and Wendy entered the crime lab. He walked ahead of her a bit, but she halted suddenly. Greg wasn't sure what she said, but it made him turn around. He couldn't see Nick's face, but Wendy wore an awkward smile and offered him an equally awkward shrug. He saw Nick shake his head, and a moment later, the two of them embraced. A after a few seconds, they broke apart, and Nick headed off towards his office. Wendy was heading towards Greg. Greg waited with his back flat against the wall, then seized her by the elbow as she rounded the corner, making her stumble.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"Jeez, Greg, are you _trying_ to get your ass kicked again?" Wendy asked as she broke away from his grip.

"Please, like you could take me," Greg said.

Wendy looked more than offended. "I'll take that challenge."

Greg hesitated, then backed down. "… Noo, thank you, I've already met my quota for bloody noses this month."

"Hmph," she said, with very smug _I thought so_ overtones.

"Seriously," Greg said, in a harsh whisper. "What just happened between you and Nick?"

"A truce of sorts," Wendy replied.

"How did that happen?" Greg asked.

She smirked. "Let's just say we united against a common enemy."

"Not Ecklie?" Greg said, sounding worried.

"No, just your regular jackass with a badge," Wendy replied. "Nick stood up for me."

"He does that," Greg said, with a proud smile.

"He really does," Wendy agreed, then shrugged. "I mean, we're not best friends or anything, but at least I don't feel like he hates me anymore."

Greg smiled at her. "Yeah, we got a good start on the not-hating road too."

She seemed intrigued. "Is that so?"

Greg gave her a humble shrug. "Yeah, well, ya know…"

She rolled her eyes. "'Yeah, well, ya know…'" she mocked. "No, I don't know. Spill."

"We… might have kissed," Greg said, modestly.

Wendy hit him in the arm, playfully. "You dog," she said with a smirk.

"Hey," Greg said, rubbing the spot she'd hit. "I thought I said no more fists."

"Baby," she accused.

"Funny…" Greg said, smiling, though this time, it was almost sad. "That's what he said."

Wendy frowned, then held onto her elbows. "So Nick and I are OK," she began. "And you and Nick are OK. What about you and me?"

Greg's smile grew. "Are you kidding?" he said. "We're probably the healthiest relationship of any of them."

"You don't feel… weird around me?" Wendy pressed.

A tinge of red crept into Greg's cheeks. "Well, I don't remember much from that night, so…"

"You are such a liar," she said.

"What's my tell?" he asked.

"You're beet red right now," she told him.

"I guess I just think it's best that we… move on," Greg explained. "We were consenting adults and it happened, but… I'd like it if it didn't kill our friendship, so… I try not to think about it. That kiss helped clear things up for me, too."

Wendy sighed. "You know, in some other universe where Hodges didn't exist…"

"I know," Greg agreed. "I… feel the same. Only not about Hodges. The problem is, I'd never want to live in a world where Nick doesn't exist."

Wendy looked as if a strange thought had just occurred to her. She smiled, but her eyes glinted in the florescent light of the lab. "And that's how I know you two were made for each other." Without saying anything else, she turned and walked down the hall.

Greg watched her until she disappeared, a little puzzled by her reaction.


	8. New Beginnings

**_Author's_ Note:** Sorry for the lateness of this story, but in all honesty, since I finished it a few weeks ago, I kind of forgot about it! No worries, though. Last chapter here, for your enjoyment. Please review, and keep an eye open for some upcoming stories.

Chapter Eight: New Beginnings

"Hey," Wendy said, once again in the doorway to Hodges' domain.

He turned around, holding a stack of papers, which he set on the counter. "Hey…" he replied.

"I… think I'm leaving," she said.

She could tell that he knew exactly what she meant, but he still said, "No problem, just give me a second, and I'll join you—"

"Not… for the night," she clarified.

He sat down on a stool. "Is this about Portland?"

She frowned. "How do you know about that?"

"You call your sister a lot…" Hodges explained. "Hard not to overhear. Especially when… you've got the help of a nosey AV tech and a toxicologist who can't keep a secret."

"I'll murder them both," Wendy said flatly. She entered the room fully. "Yes, I think I have a good shot at a job up there. I don't know. I'm still feeling things out."

"I know," Hodges said. "That's what you told your sister. Why are you telling me, then, if you don't know yet?"

"Because if it's not Portland, it'll be somewhere else. Salem. Seattle. Olympia."

"Why the interest in the northwest?"

"Because it's green and cool and away from here," she said.

"Away from me," he reminded her.

She nodded. "I know."

"And you see this as a good thing?"

She pursed her lips. "I told you before. I don't know what to do with this."

"I thought we were going to take it slow."

"Snail's pace," she agreed. "But my career, that's going a lot faster than us."

"So that's your reasoning," Hodges said, dully. "Your career over me."

"No, my reasoning is much harder than that," she explained, tears blossoming from her eyes. "Because today, even for just a fleeting second, I actually imagined a world without you in it and it didn't kill me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hodges breathed, clearly wounded.

"I don't know," she conceded. "But people who are in love can't do that. People who are in love aren't supposed to think that. I was beginning to think I couldn't go, because I was in love with you, Hodges. Now that I know that I'm not, the only excuse for me to stay is to wait and see if an empty dream will come true."

"You couldn't have just told me you chose your career over me?" Hodges whispered. "You had to tell me… all that."

She offered him a shrug. "I'm sorry. I thought it was time that I was honest. You have to let me go, Hodges." She turned around, afraid she would burst into sobs if she stayed any longer and made her way swiftly out of the trace lab.

Behind her, Hodges uttered a quiet, "No."

Wendy kept on walking. She couldn't stop. Until, for the third time that night, someone seized her elbow, forcing her to turn, and she was fully prepared to punch Greg Sanders in the face like she had threatened to do, but before she could even raise her fist, she literally ran into Hodges' lips. She ended up with her palms flat against his chest, his arms wrapped around her, his hands on her back. She had kissed Hodges only once before, and it had been similar in its desperation, but as she lost herself in his declaration, she realized that this was so much different than before. In this kiss, it was _his_ desperation they were tasting, _his_ fear, and _his_ pure and unadulterated adulatio. He was telling her, in the way his arms refused to let an inch of space exist between them, and the way his lips embraced hers, that he was not going to let her go without a fight. And it was a fight that Hodges was clearly winning, because in that moment, lost in the strangely sharp and bitter scent of him that held conflicting hints of allspice and ammonia, she imagined something. For the second time that night, she imagined a world without David Hodges in it. A world that existed in shades of blue and gray, with protein strands and double helixes but no quirks or distractions. A world where she was the best damn DNA tech in her field, but where she had no time or incentive to indulge in elaborate ruses, pranks or games, and was disinterested in anything more out there, anything bigger than her tiny lab. A world where on one challenged her, where no one inspired her to look for the next great adventure. A world where she lived in a rainy city on the coast, swigging coffee in the daily grind, surrounded by trees and mountains and completely isolated from anyone that could make her laugh, _really_ make her laugh, not just manage an amused smile. A world where, she realized, she was less than half of what she was in a world where David Hodges existed.

When the kiss was finally broken, Hodges leaned his forehead against hers and didn't open his eyes. He simply whispered, "Please… Please don't go."

After a moment, Wendy pushed him back, making him open his eyes to look at her. "I just told you that I didn't love you. And this is what you do?"

"I… wanted to show you that your feelings weren't the only ones that mattered," he said.

Slowly, she smiled. "You _are_ an oxymoron. I ask you out, and you refuse. I try and get closer, you pull away. I tell you that I don't love you and—"

"I say that I don't believe you," Hodges interrupted.

"Who are you to tell me how I feel?" she asked.

"You're still letting me hold you," Hodges pointed out.

She bit her tongue as she realized that he was right, and she wasn't going to break away now, either. For a moment, they stood there, as she allowed him to embrace her, as she allowed him to love her.

"Look," Hodges began, breaking the silence. "There's only one reason that I can think of for you standing there and telling me that you don't love me."

"It's true?"

"No," Hodges insisted. "You told me that because you don't want me to chase after you. You wanted to hurt me badly enough that I wouldn't think you were worth it. But you've underestimated me. You have no idea the things that women have done to convince me to leave them alone."

She could feel her lips twitch and looked sharply away, determined to not insult him with her amusement in this serious speech he was making.

"The point is," Hodges continued with a frustrate growl, knowing full well how his last statement had made him sound, "I've never been good with people. But I'm good with you. And I'm not ready to just let that go. I don't care what you did with Greg Sanders. Although I will never stop asking myself _why_ Greg Sanders, of all the people inside this lab and out of it that you could have chosen to—"

"OK," Wendy interrupted. "I get it. You're Dustin Hoffman in _the Graduate_ and you won't stop banging on that window until I call out your name."

Hodges shrugged. "I've never actually seen that movie."

She placed her hand against his cheek and smiled. "I've finally made a movie reference that you didn't get. Hell must have frozen over."

Hodges was frowning as he thought through her comment. "That's the movie with Mrs. Robinson, isn't it? Are you saying that you're old? Because you're not old."

Wendy gaped at him. "Just stop talking before I change my mind."

"Change your mind about what?"

"Staying," Wendy said. "I guess… field work can wait a while." She pulled away from him, her hands on his upper arms. "Maybe we can work this out after all?"

He nodded, but he wasn't smiling. "Yeah…"

"Breakfast after shift?" she suggested.

"It's a start…" he replied, a strange glazed look in his eyes.

"It is, isn't it? Start of something all right." She let out a big sigh as she turned and began to walk away, her ponytail swinging from side to side. "I think I just made the biggest mistake of my life," she said with a grin.

Hodges looked after her, feeling oddly guilty. "Yeah…" he mumbled.

* * *

><p>Greg's eyes flickered between his watch and the open door to the locker room. He tried to control his breathing as he felt his skin begin to tingle. He was having horrible déjà vu, but that just told him that everything was going according to plan. After two and a half minutes, he strolled into the locker room.<p>

"Oh, hey," he said with a smirk.

Nick closed his locker and looked at Greg with raised eyebrows and an all-around unamused expression. "Lurking again, are we?"

"Two and a half full, unadulterated minutes of it," Greg replied. He stepped into the locker room fully, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. "Listen, I was thinking we could maybe do this scene again. Could you humor me?"

Nick sighed and let his arm drop against his thigh. He shrugged. "Do you have something you want to say to me, Greg?"

"Yes," Greg said, clearly. "Yes, Nick, I do." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, rocked forward onto the balls of his feet and fell back again. "I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time."

Nick seemed unimpressed. "Aren't you worried about how I will react to a confession like this?"

"No," Greg said. "Because I'm smart, and I thought about how well I know you. The way you play along with me by responding to my suggestive banter. How sometimes, I'll catch you looking at me when I'm thinking of looking at you. How your hugs linger a little longer than I think is socially acceptable. But even if I never noticed these things about you and me, I know _you_. You're the guy that never gives up thinking a little girl is still alive, even when everyone else thinks she's dead. The guy that sees a crying woman on the street and doesn't just walk by without asking what's wrong. And probably the only one on this job that I know who actually still means it every single time he says, 'I'm sorry for your loss.' But mostly, you're the guy who is so loyal to his friends, that he'll stick up for them no matter what. Even if they've hurt you… Even if _we've_ hurt you pretty bad. And I love you, for all of that. I love you for all of that and more."

Nick was smiling by this point, though he was trying to hide it by covering his mouth with his hand. He forced a laugh. "Wendy told you about the punch I threw, huh?"

Greg looked confused. "Punch? What punch?" His hand hovered over his nose. "And keep in mind I'm a little sensitive to that word right now."

Nick laughed, and this time, it was genuine. "Nothing. Officer Jackson was giving her crap, so I gave him some right back."

Greg took a few more steps towards him. "She never said you punched a guy for her. That's hot."

Nick frowned. "I think you have that backwards."

"How's that?"

"I think you're supposed to find it hot when I punch someone for _you_."

Greg shrugged as he slid his hands around Nick's waist. "I don't care who it's _for_," he said. "I care that _you_ care so much. You stand up for the people that need it. It's rare, and it's… It's you, Nick."

Nick shook his head, his smile growing even as he refused to return Greg's embrace, but he didn't pull away from it either. "You really are laying it on thick."

"You forgive me yet?"

"Don't push it," Nick said.

"Are you kidding?" Greg said. "If there's one thing I've learned from all this, is that I'll always push it. I'll do anything, Nick, if it means I can be with you."

"OK, now you're just verging on cheesy," Nick said.

"I don't care," Greg replied. "I don't. Can we just… stop talking and be kissing now?"

Nick smiled even as he shook his head. "You can't just say all that and kiss me and make everything better."

"No," Greg admitted. "Look, I know I hurt you. But I want to make it up to you. I want to spend my whole life making it up to you, if you'll just let me."

Nick continued to resist, however reluctantly, until he let out a frustrated sigh and cupped Greg's face in his hands. "What is it about you that makes me just want to…"

"Kiss me?" Greg suggested.

And finally, Nick obliged, giving in to both of their desires. Without the awkward bulge of Greg's swollen nose between them, this kiss was much more comfortable, if more inhibited. Nick was slow, his lips cautious as he engaged Greg's, one hand moving down to tickle the back of his neck, the other moving to rest against his chest, right above his heart, fingers curling over the shoulder. But still, he pressed his body deliberately against Greg's, and the younger man stumbled backwards into the locker as his hands crawled up Nick's back. Though cautious, it was also filled with devotion. The kiss was everything that had evolved between them over the last few days, over the last few years. Nick wanted him, that much was clear, but he was holding back, and Greg couldn't blame him. For now, Greg accepted this timid risk, this quiet declaration, because he knew that out of everything that he and Wendy had said that he deserved, he didn't deserve someone as loyal as Nick. She had been right to say that he was lucky to have him.

When they broke apart, Greg once again found himself breathless, but for a completely different reason. His eyes remained closed long after Nick pulled away, but they remained in each other's embrace for a moment longer. Greg allowed the feeling of security, of finally experiencing the dream, linger, savoring every prickle of his skin, every breath that they shared together.

"I guess…" Nick whispered, "I can't say no to you."

"Thank God you can't," Greg breathed, still feeling slightly light-headed. He finally opened his eyes to find himself staring right back into Nick's. And he smiled.

* * *

><p>"I've solved all your problems," Mandy declared with her arms in the air as she stood in the doorway of the DNA lab on Tuesday.<p>

Wendy turned to face her. "You're too late. Hodges and I decided to work things out."

Mandy was visibly disappointed as her arms dropped to her side. "What happened to Portland?"

"I'm sure there'll be opportunities for me here, too," Wendy said with a modest shrug.

"And what about the wedding this weekend?" Mandy pressed.

"I don't know," Wendy told her. "I was thinking Hodges might come with me, now that we've sort of sorted everything out… Why are you shaking your head?"

"Because I have the perfect plus one for you," Mandy said, mysteriously.

Wendy folded her arms, intrigued in spite of herself. "Oh yeah?"

Mandy pointed her thumbs at herself. "I could say something really cheesy about having two thumbs, or I could just tell you it's me."

"Why do _you_ want to go to a wedding?"

"Do you remember last week a little wager going on about who you would end up with?" Mandy asked.

Wendy groaned. "Don't remind me."

Mandy smirked and fanned out a wad of cash. "Archie had the brilliant idea to name me treasurer."

"And what does this have to do with the wedding?" Wendy pressed.

"Simple," Mandy said. "We take the money and run. I can buy myself an awesome dress and hit on the groomsmen, and you can pay for all the booze, considering it won't be an open bar. It'll be a girls' night, funded by a sexist bet. Poetic justice, don't you think?"

Wendy smirked and took the cash Mandy handed to her. "Didn't Archie technically win this money?"

"Archie doesn't know you and Hodges made up," Mandy pointed out. "And he won't find out until after the money is spent. Hell, I didn't even know until you just told me, I just wanted to pocket the cash."

Wendy thought about all the people who had put money on her personal life and had a laugh at her expense. "I guess I do deserve a little compensation. My screwed-up love life and humiliation _was_ their entertainment after all."

Mandy's ecstatic grin faded into a warm smile. "I'm glad you're not going to Portland. I don't think I could stand being the only girl in the lab."

"Aw…" Wendy said, flattered by the remark.

Mandy wrapped her arms around her friend and Wendy closed her eyes, thinking about the choice was making and not sure where the knot in her stomach had come from.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Wendy opened her eyes and lit up to see Hodges watching them, intrigue scribbled across his face. Mandy pulled back and turned to give Hodges a playful accusatory glare.

"Don't get any ideas," she said, shaking her finger reprovingly at Hodges. She nodded at Wendy and offered her a knowing smile. "I'll see you later."

Wendy nodded her goodbye as Mandy slipped past Hodges. She then turned her attention to the man who had convinced her to stay in Las Vegas. "And to what do I owe this visit?"

"For the record," Hodges began, pointing after Mandy, "I don't mind walking in on _you_ two together."

"Oh, shut up," Wendy laughed, rolling her eyes. "You're not that guy, and don't pretend to be. What's up?"

Hodges tapped some papers against his hand, nervously. "I applied for a position in Portland."

Wendy blinked at him, too baffled to even form an expression. "What did you do that for?" And after she asked, the emotions came, flooding her lungs like ice water. It seemed some sort of cruel and unusual punishment for Hodges to go and betray her like that. Not only was he leaving her alone after she had finally admitted her feelings for him, but he was stealing her dream, and her job.

"I just… saw you. In the hall…" Hodges tried to explain.

"I know," Wendy snapped. "I thought we decided to work on our relationship. I thought we decided it was more important than a new job. Or, well, _my_ new job. Apparently, _you_ can do whatever you want, can't you?"

"Wendy, I did this _for_ our relationship," Hodges insisted, as if it were apparent. "In the hall, you decided to stay, because of me. But you don't want to stay here. It was obvious you didn't want to stay."

"What are you talking about?" Wendy demanded. "Of course I want to stay. Vegas has been my home for five years now, all my friends are here, why wouldn't I want to stay?"

"You said it yourself," Hodges reminded her. "You were worried this was going to be the biggest mistake of your life. Because in your heart, you knew that it was."

"I don't understand…" Wendy said, her eyes becoming glassy with tears. "Why would that make you leave?"

He smiled at her reassuringly. "You're really dense sometimes, aren't you?" She scowled, not appreciating his teasing. He quickly went on. "You wanted to stay in Vegas because _I'm_ in Vegas. But if I'm in _Portland_… then you can be free to go after your dreams."

The ice in her chest melted into a warm puddle in her stomach. "You're willing to move for me?"

"I'm willing to move _with_ you," Hodges said. "Wendy, I don't want to be the person that kept you from being everything you ever wanted to be. But I couldn't let you leave me here, either. This just seemed like the logical solution."

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him quickly and deeply, squeezing his cheeks so hard she thought his head might pop like a balloon. She broke away just as sharply and beamed at him. "Now I know I made the right choice."

He was bright red and Wendy was warmed as she was reminded of a tomato. "Well, it was time I moved out of my mother's place anyway," he said, bashfully.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Wendy asked, suddenly wracked with anxiety, her brow tightly wrinkled. "I mean, you hate the rain. And trams. And recycling. You always say that the fewer new people you have to meet, the better, and that as a general rule, change is bad, until and unless it involves robots."

"I want _you_," Hodges whispered. "I want you… to be happy. Everything else doesn't matter."

Slowly, she unwound. "So what job did you apply for? I don't remember an opening for a trace tech…"

"No," Hodges replied. "I mean, not exactly. In all honesty, it won't be as intellectually stimulating as the job I have here, but Oregon pays its techs better than Nevada, so there is a salary boost. And the workload will be smaller, obviously, so more pay for less work is a win in my books."

"What's the job?" Wendy pressed.

He hesitated. "DNA tech."

She scowled and hit him. And then, she kissed him.

* * *

><p><em>Several Months Later<em>

"Please tell me this is the last one," Greg begged as he lowered a particularly heavy box into the back of a pick-up truck.

"That's the last one," Wendy cheerily confirmed, throwing her arms in the air. "I'm officially all packed and ready to roll." She stepped over to the truck and closed the tailgate. She turned and leaned against it, looking at her volunteers.

"Thanks for the help, you two," she said, her smile sincere and somber.

Nick took Greg's hand as he nodded at her. "What friends would we be if we didn't help you move?"

"I have the pizza!" Mandy exclaimed as she walked up the driveway. She tossed Wendy an expectant look. "You said there would be beer?"

"I think it's the only thing left in the fridge," Wendy said. "And where have you been?"

"What are you talking about?" Mandy asked, sounding affronted. "I went to get the pizza."

Wendy tried to contain her smile. "Two hours ago!"

"I don't do heavy lifting," Mandy replied, matter-of-factly.

Greg rolled his eyes. "I'll go grab the beers," he said, reluctantly breaking away from Nick's side as he headed into the house. Stepping out of the sunlight and into the quiet shade of Wendy's empty hallway, Greg closed the door behind him and leaned against it. He felt his heart fossilize and crack like a geode. He could never tell Wendy how much he didn't want her to leave, not now, not when she was so excited. He may not have been in love with her, but he did love her, and to lose her to Oregon of all places just seemed unfair. For a moment, he was bitterly envious of Hodges. After all, he got to go on this new adventure with her and see a whole new city that Greg had never actually been to. In his youth, he had dreamed about traveling the world, and for a while he had lived it. New York, Chicago, even six months spent couch surfing in Toronto, before he really ran out of money and realized he needed to settle down and get a real job. That's how he had ended up in Vegas. It had seemed new, fresh and exciting at the time, but he had been there for twelve years now and he was beginning to feel that old itch to move again. But he knew that he would never leave Vegas. And though a part of him called it home, and appreciated all that he had earned there – a solid career, a fondness for local history, loyal friends, and a forgiving boyfriend – a part of him still wished for something bigger.

He heard glass clink together somewhere deeper in the house and smiled. He followed the noise down the hall into Wendy's blue and white kitchen. He saw Hodges standing at the bar with no stools, already taking a deep swig from a bottle of beer he'd opened. The rest of the six pack was on the table. At the sight of Greg, Hodges froze, bottle still pointed skyward. After a moment, he lowered it and licked his lips. He looked down.

"What do you want?" he asked.

Greg was used to Hodges' abrupt greetings. It had been years since they had fazed him. But for some reason, this one really stung. "Came to pick up the beers for the rest of us."

Hodges nodded, as if he had expected this, then took another sip. "Good. Good."

Greg frowned, then leaned on the bar. "We were friends, right?"

Hodges acted like he had no idea what Greg was talking about. He opened his mouth once or twice, but instead of answering, he just took another swig from his bottle.

Greg laughed, looked at the floor, then back up at Hodges again. "I mean, at one time. We were friends, you and me."

Slowly, Hodges lowered the bottle and wiped his mouth. Even more slowly, he nodded. "Yeah, we were."

"And now?"

Hodges shrugged. "I don't know."

"Friends… admit when they're wrong," Greg began. "They apologize."

Clearly uncomfortable, Hodges squirmed, shifting his weight to one foot. "Well, yes, traditionally…"

"I never apologized to you," Greg said. "Not officially. Unless you count letting you punch me in the face – twice – without any repercussions an apology. Which I kind of did. 'Til now. 'Til this conversation…" Greg was beginning to feel awkward himself, but the contrition that weighed on his rocky heart was sincere. He needed Hodges to know that. "I never actually said the words. Guys, they don't… talk about these things."

"No, they don't," Hodges said, seizing the rest of the beers. The bottles clanked together as he lifted the box off of the table. He ducked his head, walking past Greg to the door.

Knowing he was losing him, Greg said quickly, "I'm sorry, Hodges."

Hodges stopped, his back tensing as he stood in the doorway to the entry hall. Slowly, he turned around and managed to give Greg an ungrateful look, as if blaming him that they had to have this conversation in the first place. He sighed, then shifted his weight again and shook his head as he looked up at the ceiling. "I know it wasn't about me."

"No, it wasn't," Greg agreed. "But it still hurt you. You were still a casualty. And I'm sorry for that."

"I'm sorry I hit you," Hodges blurted out, his words coming out in rapid succession like a child that was being forced to apologize. He rolled his eyes, then added as an afterthought, "Twice."

Greg chuckled. "You were right, I deserved those punches. No apology necessary."

"Well, clearly it was," Hodges said. "Or you would have let me walk out of here."

"_My_ apology was necessary," Greg clarified. "I was the one in the wrong here. Not you."

"Yeah, but if _you_ apologized, then _I_ had to apologize…" Hodges explained, his tone dripping with exasperation.

"You didn't want to apologize, did you?" Greg noted, slightly amused.

"No, not really," Hodges admitted.

"Well, it wasn't your fault," Greg assured him. "I made you hit me. In fact, I'm sorry for being an ass that was asking to be punched in the face."

Hodges nodded, then diplomatically said, "Apology accepted."

"That's it?"

"That's what Wendy says people are supposed to say."

Greg snorted. "Yeah, it is. But only if you mean it."

And for the first time in the conversation, Hodges actually cracked a smile. "I do."

"You're gonna have a great time in Portland," Greg said. "But we'll miss you here."

"You'll miss _me_ or Wendy?" Hodges asked, his eyes accusingly narrow.

"Both of you," Greg said, honestly. "I'm… kinda jealous, actually. Whole new city to explore, whole new chapter of your life to write, and with a woman like Wendy…"

Hodges let out another growl of exasperation. "If you want it so much, take it," he said.

Greg blinked. "What?"

"I don't know if you've noticed," Hodges said, "but I hate people. Or, rather, people I don't know. And I hate tramcars and rain and places with heavy vegetation… I hate Portland."

"So why are you going?"

And he smiled again, his features softening and his eyes glowing. "Because I love Wendy. She's the one that'll make it all just… not matter."

Greg took a few steps forward and patted Hodges' shoulder reassuringly. "You'll see. New people aren't new for very long, it doesn't rain _all_ the time, and you don't have to set foot on a tramcar, or in a forest. But mostly… there's Wendy. Like you said. She'll get you through. She always does."

"She always does," Hodges repeated. "And we will visit. My mother will kill me if I don't come back for Thanksgiving."

"You really are tied to this place, aren't you?" Greg asked.

"Aren't you?" Hodges returned.

Greg thought about the twelve years he had spent in Vegas and the home he had built. The comfort of his apartment, the reliability of his friends, his blossoming romance and the history of a city he had truly come to love.

They smiled at each other. Neither one said it, but they each managed to reassure each other. Greg realized that he had to let Wendy go, that there was no one better for her to run away with than David Hodges, and that settling in Vegas was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And Hodges realized that Oregon probably wouldn't be such a disaster after all.

They went out front, where Mandy, Nick and Wendy had already broken into the pizza. There was a cry of appreciation from all three of them at the sight of Hodges, Greg and the beer. Hodges uncapped two bottle and passed them down to Wendy and Mandy. Greg gave Nick a peck on the cheek before handing him a beer and sitting next to him in a canvas chair on the driveway. Mandy and Wendy were perched on the steps of the porch and Hodges just leaned against the garage door, smiling at Wendy the entire time. They laughed and ate and drank, and at one point, Wendy caught Hodges staring. Their eyes met and she smiled.


End file.
